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lr*ss Serbs, 















[All ftights reserved.] 

Doctrina vires promovet insitas, 
Rectique ctdtus pectora roborant : 

Utcumque defecere mores, 

Dcdccorant bene nata culpa. 

HOR. Lib. iv. Od. 4. 




INTRODUCTION (Biographical). 

Locke born at Pensford, 1632 xix 

At Westminster school, 1646 1652 .... xix 

An undergraduate at Christ Church, Oxford, 1652 1655 xxi 

Oxford life in i7th century xxi 

Locke s repugnance to Oxford philosophy and disputations xxi 

Locke tutor of Christ Church, 1660 .... xxii 

Goes to Cleve with Str W. Vane, 1665 .... xxiii 

At Oxford again, 1666 ....... xxiii 

Studies medicine ........ xxiv 

Acquaintance with Lord Ashley, 1666 .... xxiv 

In Lord Ashley s family, 1667 1675 . . . . xxiv 

Cures Lord Ashley xxiv 

Finds a wife for young Ashley ..... xxv 

Locke s habit of writing ...... xxv 

* Locke s theory of life xxvi 

Intercourse with Sydenham ...... xxvii 

Locke against hypotheses in medicine .... xxvii 

Locke made Secretary of Presentations, 1672 . . . xxix 

Delenda est Carthago xxix 

Locke buys an annuity . . . . . . xxx 

Residence in France, 1675 1679 . . . . . xxx 

A new pupil, Banks . . . . . . . . xxx 

Logic before mathematics xxxi 

iv Contents. 


Locke returns to Lord Shaftesbury, 1679 . . . xxxii 

Locke s share in educating Lord Shaftesbury s grandson . xxxii 

Locke at Oxfoid again, 1682 ...... xxxiv 

Locke s exile in Holland, 1683 1689 .... xxxiv 

Is deprived of his studentship, 1684 .... xxxv 

His extradition demanded, 1685 ..... xxxv 

He is "pardoned," 1686 xxxv 

Friendship with Le Clerc ...... xxxv 

Locke begins to publish ...... xxxv 

Epitome of the great Essay appears .... xxxv 

Origin of Thoughts on Education ..... xxxvi 

Returns to England with Queen Mary, 1689 . . . xxxvii 

Locke is offered ambassadorship ..... xxxvii 

He settles at Gates, 1692 . . . . . . . xxxviii 

His public functions ....... xxxix 

Correspondence with W. Molyneux .... xxxix 

Locke publishes Thotights on Education, March, 1693- . xl 

An enfant terrible xlii 

Locke s scheme of " Working Schools " . . . xliii 

Locke and Newton . xliv 

The Essay at the Universities ..... xlv 

Locke s last days .... ... xlv 

His death, Oct. 27, 1704 ...... xlvi 


Three sources : i. Experience. 2. The working of other 

minds. 3. The working of one s own . . . xlvi 

Unconscious influence of experience .... xlvi 

Locke s belief in reason xlvii 

Need of learning from others ...... xlviii 

Locke and previous writers ...... xlviii 

Arnstaedt s succession : Rabelais, Montaigne, Locke, 

Rousseau ........ xlix 

Rabelais and "Realism" ...... 1 

Montaigne on true knowledge, and on the true place of 

knowledge after virtue and wisdom ... 1 

Locke s study of Montaigne ...... li 

"Education before instruction" ..... li 

Locke wrote for "gentlemen" ..... lii 

Contents. v 


Importance of physical education . . . . . lii 

Locke s other Four Requisites liii 

Locke on importance of habit ..... liv 

Locke on influence of companions ... . . liv 

The Tutor Iv 

Locke on "learning" ....... Iv 

Cardinal Newman accuses Locke of neglecting cultivation 

of the mind Ivi 

The charge groundless ....... Ivi 

Locke and " Realism " Ivii 

Hallam on Locke ........ Iviii 

Points of agreement between Montaigne and Locke . lix 




i 5. Hardening the body i 


Not too warm clothing 

. . 3 


Wet feet . . 

. 4 


Cold water ..... 

. . . 5 


Swimming. Open air 


9, 10. 

Caution established by habit 


II, 12. 

Against tight lacing 

. . .8 

12 14. 




Meals . . . . . 


14, 15- 

Meals ...... 



Drinking ..... 


1 8 20. 

Against strong drinks 


2O, 21. 

Fruit ..... 





21, 22. 

Sleep and bedding .... 

. . 16 

23, 24- 

Action of the bowels ... 



Action of the bowels 

. . 18 


Medicine ..... 

. 19 

20 32. 

Mind formed by Education 


*y o" 

Self-denial must be taught early 


35, 36- 

Spoiling children and its results 


36, 37- 

Training in cruelty and vanity 


vi Contents. 


37. Training in lying and intemperance ... 24 

37, 38. Safeguard in early training to self-denial . . 25 

38, 39. Do not reward importunity ..... 26 
39 41. Parent and Child ....... 27 

4143. Father and Son 28 

43 45. How to avoid Punishments ... .29 

46 48. Against corporal punishments .... 30 

49 5 2 - Harm from Severity . . . . . .31 

52, 53. Harm from injudicious rewards .... 32 

53 55- Rewards and Punishments 33 

55 58. Right management of praise and blame ... 34 

58, 59. Difficulty from Servants ...... 35 

60, 61. The sense of Shame ...... 36 

61 63. Praise in public, Blame in private. Childishness . 37 

63 65. Practice rather than Precept 38 

65, 66. Few Rules ........ 39 

66. Nature. Affectation / 40 

66. What is Affectation ? /. / . . . .41 

66, 67. Manners. Dancing \X . . / . . . .42 

67. Children and Manners . / -43 

67, 68. Manners acquired by Imitation v .... 44 
68 70. Dangers from Servants. Child to be much with Parents 45 

70. Home versus School 46 

70. Bashfulness better than Vice 47 

70. The Schoolmaster powerless for conduct ... 48 

70. Manners best learnt at home ..... 49 

70. Prevailing Dissoluteness and its cure ... 50 

70, 71. Example. Pueris reverentia . . . . -51 

71 73. Lessons should not be Tasks ..... 52 

73,74. Seasons of Aptitude and Inclination 53 

74, 75. Mind must gain self-mastery ..... 54 

75, 76. How learning is made displeasing 55 
76 78. Against passionate Chiding ..... 56 

78. Obstinacy needs the Rod ..... 57 

78. The Rod for Stubbornness only .... 58 

7880. Faults not of the Will .... -59 

80, 8 1. Appeal to Reason ....... 60 

81, 82. Reason. Examples ...... 61 

8284. Rules for the Rod 62 

Contents. vii 


84. Punishments come of neglect or over-indulgence . 63 

84 86. Show surprise at sin. Must Rod teach ? 64 

87. The Incorrigible . . 65 

88 90. Tutors must have and deserye Respect ... 66 

90, 91. Importance of the Tutor \/. . . . . .67 

91 93. Choice of Tutor v .68 

93. Good Breeding essential . . / . . . .69 

93. The Tutor must see to Manners v / / -7 
93,94. Teaching knowledge of the World v. / . . . 71 

94. Dangers from ignorance of the World V ... 72 
94. Forewarned, forearmed ...... 73 

94. Breeding before Booklearning 74 

94. True function of the Tutor /. . -75 

94. " Non vitse sed schoke discimus " /. . . 7^ 

94. Get Man of the World for Tutor J . . . - 77 

94 96. Father and Son 78 

96, 97. Friendship of Father and Son 79 

97, 98. Father s Friendship. Exercising Reason ... 80 
98,99. Against " Disputations ". Secure Reverence . .81 

99 102. Study the Child s Character ..... 82 

102 105. Child loves Liberty and Power 83 

105 107. Children must not be Choosers 84 

107. Those that ask shall not have 85 

107. Teaching of Self-restraint ...... 86 

107, 108. Curiosity encouraged. Amusements .... 87 

108, 109. Free Recreations. Mutual Civility .... 88 

109, no. No tale-bearing. Reward Liberality . ... 89 
no. Education in Justice 90 

no 112. Crying 91 

112, 113. Stomachful Crying 92 

113, 114. Stop Whining 93 

114, 115. Cases of Fool-hardiness 94 

115. True Courage 95 

115. Cowardice due to Education 96 

115. What is Fear ? 97 

115. Education to Courage 98 

115. Hardening by voluntary Pain 99 

115, 116. How Courage may be trained 100 

116. Prevent Cruelty and Mischief 101 

viii Contents. 


116,117. Cruelty not from Nature but Habit . . . .102 

117, 118. Manners to Servants. Curiosity again . . . 103 

1 18 120. Knowledge a Pleasure 104 

1 20. Children s Questions ...... 105 

1 20 123. Children s Reasoning . . . . . .106 

123, 124. Sauntering 107 

124,125. How to deal with Listlessness ..... 108 

125 127. Implant desire of some gain, or give Hand-work . 109 

127 1-29. Set Tasks of Play no 

129. Play or Work? . . . . . . .in 

129, 130. Playthings . . . . . . . .112 

!3i I 3 1 - Educational Use of Games . . . . .113 

131,132. Lying and Excuses 114 

132 135. Seem to trust. The Four Requisites . . . 115 

T 36, 137- Virtue. First Teaching about God . . . .116 

138. Bogey makes Cowards. An Anecdote . . . 117 

138.139. Trust in God. Truth. Good-nature . . .118 

139.140. Correct the Bias. \Visdomv.Cunning . . .119 
140 142. Good Breeding^* . . . . . . .120 

142,143. Good and Ill-breeding analysed .... 121 

143. Ill-breeding analysed. Rallying . . . .122 

143. Contradiction. Captiousness . . . . -123 

143 145. Over-civil 124 

145. Children s Politeness simple 125 

145. Rudeness of Interrupting ...... 126 

145. Modest carriage. Rudeness in high life . . .127 

145 147. Influence of Companions. Learning. . . .128 

147, 148. Learning needful but subordinate . . . .129 

148,149. No Compulsion : make Learning Sport . . -130 

149 151. Games for teaching Reading . . . . -131 

151 155. Games for Reading ....... 132 

Z 55> J 5^- Amusing Books with Pictures 133 

156 158. Learning by Heart. The Bible .... 134 

158,159. Learning by heart from the Bible .... 135 

159 161. Writing. Drawing/ ....... 136 

1 6 1, 162. How much Drawing. Shorthand . . . -137 

162 164. French. Latin .N/ 138 

164 1 66. Latin without Grammar .... 139 

166, 167. Begin with Knowledge of Things .... 140 

Contents. ix 


167. Art of Teaching 141 

167. Children s Attention 142 

167. Attention lost by Harshness 143 

167. Deal gently with Children ..... 144 
167, 1 68. Language-learning without Grammar . , -145 

1 68. Grammar, by whom needed . . . . .146 
168. Grammar of the Mother Tongue .... 147 
168. Grammar, when to be taught ..... 148 

168 170. Words and Things. No Latin Themes . . . 149 

170 172. Against Latin Themes 150 

i? 2 > X 73- Speaking extempore. English Themes . . . 151 

73 74- ^ Steps to Parnassus ...... 152 

174 176. Against much learning by heart . . . 153 

176. Memory a natural Gift 154 

176, 177. How to exercise Memory 155 

177, 178. Latin Bible. Tutor again ..... 156 
178 180. Use of the Globes. Arithmetic .... 157 

180, 181. Astronomy. Geometry 158 

181 183. The Globes. Chronology 159 

183 185. History. Ethics 160 

186, 187. Gentleman s Study of Law 161 

188, 189. Rhetoric and Logic. No "Disputations" . . 162 

189. Against School-Rhetoric 163 

189. Exercises in Speaking and Writing . . . .164 

189. Neglect of the Mother Tongue 165 

189, 190. Foreign Examples. Natural Science . . . 166 

190, 191. Spirits and Bodies. Study of Bible .... 167 

191, 192. Danger of Materialism 168 

192, 193. Systems of Natural Philosophy 169 

193 195. Boyle. Newton 170 

195. No Greek. La Bruyere for Languages . . . 171 

195. Choice of Tongues. Study Originals /. .172 

195. Method in Study (j 173 

195 197. Known to Unknown. Dancing. Music \// . . 174 

197, 198. Recreation. Fencing. Riding . . -v . .175 

198, 199. Fencing and Wrestling 176" 

199 202. Prudentia. Learn a Trade . . . .177 

202 204. Manual Arts. Painting, &c. No Compulsion 178 

204 206. Gardening. Ancient Examples. . . . .179 




206, 207. Recreation in Change. Gaming ~J . 

. 180 
. 181 

208 210. Other manual Arts .... 

. 182 

210,211. Use of keeping Accounts . 
211,212. Right Time for Travel? 
212 214. Wrong Time for Travel 
214 216. Gain from Travel .... 
216,217. Scope of this Treatise 
217. Conclusion ..... 

. . . 183 
. . 184 
. 185 
. 186 
. . . 187 
. 188 

APPENDIX A. Locke s scheme of " Working Schools " 

. 189 

APPENDIX B. Locke s other writings on Education. 
NOTES . . 

"Of Study" 191 





The following passages differ from the first edition (1693): those 
between quotation-marks were added : 

5. "An eminent Instance be too warm: And" 

7. "How fond Mothers ice in it." 

13. "it ought to be young Master must needs have." 

14. Small alterations, and "The Romans Sun-set:" added. 

15. "and grow peevish every Day." "For thus un 
healthy." The rest re-written. 

21. On Sleep. "Tho 1 I have said" to end of section. 

37. Added. 

62. Added. 

66. "This Method" to end of section. 

67. "if when their Governor." "What I have said 

as they grow up." 

70. "Being abroad" to end of section. 

* In the earlier copies of the Cambridge edition I gave a list which I had made 
too hastily and have since found to be imperfect. R. H. Q. 15 Dec. 1886. 

Locke s Additions to the Original Work, xi 

77. "Passionate chiding" to end of section. 

78. "The Pain of the Rod keep it." 

88. "at least till and therefore" in 89. 

93. Added. 

94. Added. 

98. Added. 

106. Rewritten. 

107. First part added. From "My Meaning," rewritten. 

108. "How ever strict" to end of section. 

109. Partly rewritten. 

no. ( 105 of first ed.) " If Liberality " to end of section. 

113. Small alteration. 

114. Small alterations. 

115. Added. 

117. Added. 

125. Small variation. 

126. Rewritten. 

130. "One thing" to end of section. 

136. "And I am apt " to end of section. 

143. "It is a disposition" to end of section. 

145. ( 138 of first ed.) "Tho children" to end of section. 

156. "These baits nothing," rewritten. 

161. Short-hand added. 

167. "In teaching of children" to end of section. 

168. "It will possibly be asked" to end of section. 

169. "But whatever" to end of section. 

176. Added. 

177. " But of this " to end of section. 

180. "When this is done true in itself." 

189. "There can be scarce" to end of section. 
195. "To conclude" to end of section. 
205. Added. 
207. Rewritten. 



THE Germans, who hitherto have had the history of 
education in their own hands, have uniformly attributed an 
important part in it to one Englishman and one only the 
philosopher Locke; and their first well-known historian, 
F. H. Ch. Schwarz, has asserted that "modern pedagogy is 
more or less directly [a safe form of statement] the pedagogy of 
Locke. Die Pddagogik und Didaktik der neuen Zeit isl die 
Locke* sche, mehr oder iveniger folgerecht 1 " (quoted by Herbart, 
Pad. Schriften ii. 329 in Beyer s BibiiotheK). But so little has 
been thought of education in this country that our one classic 
has never been carefully edited, and has now been for some 
time "out of print." An inquiring student was lately told that 
the only edition obtainable was the Tauchnitz. I have no 
doubt there are American editions ; the whole work is certainly 
to be found in Henry Barnard s English Pedagogy; but our 
booksellers have not as yet had the enterprise or the good 
fortune of Columbus. 

It has lately occurred to at least two committees at once 
that an English edition was wanted. There has been much 
talk about education of late years ; and at length people are 
beginning to perceive that some thought about it and study of 
it may be desirable. The University of Cambridge has gone so 
far as to institute an examination, so that for the future there 
will be some young teachers who will find it useful to read the 
chief English classic connected with their profession. This is, 
I suppose, the reason why new editions, two at least, appear 
about the same time. The National Society s edition is to be 

1 Campe too says of Locke and Rousseau, "Sie machten Bahn; 
wir Andern folgten," 

Preface. xiii 

edited by the Rev. Evan Daniel. Unfortunately neither Canon 
Daniel nor I knew of the other s work till too late, or we should 
have avoided even the appearance of rivalry. 

On examining the text I found that many errors had crept 
into the only complete editions, i.e. the editions published after 
Locke s death. The best text is that of the Works in 3 vols. 
folio, issued in 1714 by Locke s own bookseller, Churchill. But 
this is by no means faultless. It even gives a wrong date (1690 
instead of 1693) at the foot of the Epistle Dedicatory. I have 
corrected many inaccuracies, but I fear not all. 

Hallam speaks of Locke s "deficiencies of experience," but 
neither Hallam nor anyone else could have known before the 
publication of Mr Fox Bourne s Life what Locke s experience 
was. I have endeavoured in the biographical introduction to 
put before the reader all that we now can learn about it. 

Locke s study of medicine is no doubt an advantage to the 
ordinary reader, but it is decidedly the reverse to the ordinary 
editor. However, I have turned this weak part of the notes into 
a particularly strong one, by getting the help of Dr J. F. Payne, 
Fellow of Magdalen College Oxford, Assistant Physician and 
Lecturer at St Thomas s Hospital. Dr Payne tells us what the 
science of the nineteenth century has to say to Locke s advice ; 
and his notes are the more interesting from his having made a 
special study of the history of medicine. 

Locke showed the interest he took in the Thoughts by 
adding to the editions which came out in his life-time, and by 
leaving fresh matter which was added after his death. The 
original work was not more than two-thirds the size of the 
present. I have given a table from which the student may see 
what the original work was. Some of the most important 
passages in the book, e.g. the attack on the public schools, do 
not belong to it. 

R. H. Q. 


March iqth, 1880. 


SINCE the first Cambridge edition of the Thoughts came out 
four years ago, Locke has received much attention both at home 
and abroad. I will here mention the chief works bearing on 
the Thoughts which have since been published. 

Canon Daniel s edition was I believe before mine, but by a 
few days only. In preparing this reissue I have resisted the 
temptation to have recourse to his book. Readers who can 
refer to it will find great assistance, especially from the notes 
on Locke s language. 

Had Dr Fowler s account of Locke s life (English Men of 
Letters, Locke. Macmillans) been given us a little earlier, I 
probably should not have prefixed one to this work. Dr Fowler s 
description of Locke s later years will be found especially in 
teresting: and these I have said little about. Our plans and 
objects differed, and I have dwelt chiefly on Locke s connexion 
with education. I am no doubt likely to exaggerate his im 
portance as an educational writer; but according to Dr Fowler, 
Locke himself, and indeed all Europe, have fallen into the same 
error. But if Dr Fowler makes little of Locke the educationist, 
Professor Fraser in the Encyclopedia Britannica (Locke*), 
makes nothing at all. 

On the Continent Locke is still reckoned among the great 
educational reformers ; and, as M. Compayre tells us, Leibnitz 
considered the Thoughts concerning Education a more im 
portant book than the Essay on the Human Understanding. 
Several continental writers have lately treated of Locke, es 
pecially as an educationist. I wish I had known of M. Marion s 
very interesting sketch of Locke s life (J. Locke, sa vie et son 

Preface to the Second Edition. xv 

ccuvre. Paris, 1878) when I wrote on the same subject in 1880. 
M. Gabriel Compayre (who is now the historian of education 
for those who do not read German, and for some who do also) 
has published a French translation of the Thoughts (Quelques 
Pense es, &c. Paris, Hachette, 1882) with Introduction and 
notes. In these he seems to me to appreciate Locke more 
highly and more justly than he has done in his greater work 
Les Doctrines d 1 Education (Hachette, 2 vols.) 1 . 

The only genuine attempt I have seen to find the true 
connexion between Locke s thoughts on philosophy and on 
education is in a little book by Herr Wilhelm Gitschmann, Die 
Paedagogik des JoJin Locke (Koethen, Schettler, 1881). Her- 
bart s is the philosophy now influential on education in Germany, 
and Locke is judged by Herr Gitschmann from this latest 

Perhaps I should say a word on the conclusions to which 
the study of the books named, and also further acquaintance 
with Locke, have brought me. Sir William Hamilton (quoted 
in a good article on Locke in Edinburgh Review, vol. 99, 
April 1854) says: "Locke is of all philosophers the most figu 
rative, ambiguous, vacillating, various and even contradictory." 
To hear Locke spoken of as an ambiguous writer, is to say the 

1 Take the following passage in proof of this : " En effet le progres 
de la pedagogic moderne sur la vieille pedagogic, au point de vue de la 
direction de la volonte comme au point de vue de la developpement de 
1 intelligence, consiste surtout en ceci qu elle fait de plus en plus effort 
pour eveiller et mettre en oeuvre les energies naturelles de 1 esprit, pour 
associer 1 enfant et son action personelle a 1 action de 1 educateur, en 
un mot, pour faire de 1 education une ceuvre de developpement interieur, 
une ceuvre du dedans, si je puis dire, et non un placage artificiel impose 
du dehors. Locke a d autant plus de merite a professer ce principe 
pedagogique que les prejuges de sa philosophic sensualiste semblaient 
devoir 1 egarer dans la voie contraire, et 1 entrainer a exagerer la part 
des influences exte rieures dans 1 education " (p. xxviii). 

This passage has the rare merit of allowing Locke to think for him 
self, and does not attribute certain philosophic theories to him, and then 
make these theories dictate thoughts for him. 

xvi Preface to the Second Edition. 

least of it somewhat startling; but figurative he is ; and if a 
small man may presume to judge a great, I should say he 
sometimes allowed a figure to run away with him and carry him 
further than his reason would have led him without the meta 
phor. But perhaps this appearance of being vacillating, various 
and even contradictory arises in part from his efforts to get at 
the exact truth of the matter in hand, and not to bolster up 
anything previously asserted either by himself or any one else. 
He very much over-estimates, as it seems to me, the power 
of the individual intellect to get at truth in everything without 
even inquiring what had been thought and said by others. 
He goes so far as to maintain to his friend Molyneux that two 
honest men who would be at the pains to consider a matter of 
speculation could not possibly differ. And when he had grown 
old he lamented in a passage of singular pathos that he had 
wasted his time in " thinking as every man thinks 1 ." And yet if 
ever man s thought had not been content with the road-way it 
was Locke s. Of the great "Essay" and his doctrines about the 
mind he writes to Stillingfleet " I must own to your Lordship 
they were spun barely out of my thoughts reflecting as well 
as I could on my own mind and the ideas I had there." He is 
extremely contemptuous towards those who are as he says 
"learned in the lump by other men s thoughts, and in the right 

1 " When I consider how much of my life has been trifled away in 
beaten tracks where I vamped on with others only to follow those who 
went before me, I cannot but think I have just as much reason to be 
proud as if I had travelled all England and, if you will, all France too, 
only to acquaint myself with the roads, and be able to tell how the 
highways lie wherein those of equipage, and even the herd too, travel. 
Now, methinks, and these are often old men s dreams I see openings 
to truth and direct paths leading to it, wherein a little application and 
industry would settle one s mind with satisfaction and leave no darkness 
or doubt. But this is the end of my day, when my sun is setting : and 
though the prospect it has given me be what I would not for anything 
be without there is so much truth, beauty and consistency in it yet 
it is for one of your age, I think I ought to say for yourself, to set 
about." Locke to Bolde quoted by Fowler. Locke, p. 120. 

Preface to the Second Edition. xvii 

by saying after others." Herr Gitschmann then seems reason 
able when he says that Locke s chief importance in education 
arises from his revolt against custom and authority. Locke 
does indeed write for those "who dare venture to consult 
their own reason in the education of their children rather than 
wholly rely upon old custom" (Thoughts, ad f.). He ridicules 
those who let "custom stand for reason" (77z. 164). But 
though use-and-wont has had almost undisputed sway in the 
schoolroom, its authority has always been called in question by 
writers on education, and there were several of these even in 
England before Locke. Even schoolmasters (e.g. Mulcaster, 
Brinsly and Hoole in England and Rollin in France) cannot 
publish a book on the school course without suggesting many 
alterations ; and writers who are not schoolmasters are almost 
always revolutionary. So a revolt against custom was no novelty 
first recommended by Locke. 

But Locke s estimate (exaggerated estimate as I think it) of 
the function of the reason led him to take a new view of educa 
tion. Since the scholars of the Renascence found all wisdom 
and beauty as they thought in the ancient classics, education has 
been confounded with "learning" or "gaining knowledge." But 
Locke s notion of knowledge differed widely from the school 
master s. According to him knowledge is " the internal percep 
tion of the mind " (L. to Stillingfleet. F. B. ii. 432). " Know 
ing is seeing ; and if it be so, it is madness to persuade 
ourselves we do so by another man s eyes, let him use ever so 
many words to tell us that what he asserts is very visible. Till 
we ourselves see it with our own eyes and perceive it by our 
own understandings, we are as much in the dark and as void of 
knowledge as before, let us believe any learned author as much 
as we will " (C. of U. 24). So Locke in effect maintained that 
the knowledge of the schoolroom was no knowledge at all, and 
he despised it accordingly. Yet he did not entirely give it up. 
His disciple Rousseau did so. Childhood and youth he would 
have quite differently treated. The child s education is to be 
mainly physical and no instruction is to be given till the age of 
12. This at first sight seems in striking contrast with Locke s 

Q. b 

Preface to the Second Edition. 

advice ; but there is a deep connexion between the two which is 
not usually observed. If nothing be accounted knowledge which 
is not gained by the perception of the reason, knowledge is quite 
beyond the reach of children. What then can the educator do 
for them? He can prepare them for the age of reason by caring 
(ist) for their physical health, and (2nd) for the formation of good 
habits. Among good habits industry holds a prominent place, 
and the chief use of schoolroom studies is to cultivate industry. 
This is certainly a new notion about learning ; and that it was 
Locke s his own words prove : "The studies which [the governor] 
sets [the child] upon are but as it were the exercises of his 
faculties and employment of his Time, to keep him from saunter 
ing and idleness, to teach him application, and accustom him to 
take pains, and to give him some little taste of what his own 
Industry must perfect" (Thoughts, 94, p. 75 ad f.). Thus 
children are prepared only for intellectual education, and when 
he is old enough for that education every youth and young man 
must be his own teacher. Locke has indeed written a book on 
intellectual education, but this is not the Thoughts it is the 
Conduct of the Understanding^-. 

R. H. O. 

Jan. 23, 1884. 

1 All my references to this are to the Oxford edition of Dr Fowler, 
a little book which no one concerned with intellectual education should 
be without. 


THE philosopher, JOHN LOCKE, was born at Pensford, a 
village six miles from Bristol, A. D. 1632. Though in bad 
health the greater part of his life he reached the age of 72, 
and died in the autumn of 1704. Of his early days we know 
little. He was not, like most great men, "his mother s 
child." Throughout his life the reason seems to have en 
croached in him on the affections ; and this we may attri 
bute to the absence of female influence. We know nothing 
of his mother, and all that he told his friend, Lady Masham, 
about her was that she was "a pious woman and affectionate 
mother." The family consisted of John, the first child, and 
Thomas, born five years later. There were no other children, 
and the mother may have died young. The father was the 
ruling spirit, and in those troubled times he was a stirring 
man abroad as well as at home. A lawyer by profession 
he took up arms in the cause of the Parliament, and so became 
" Captain Locke." 

The Captain used his influence with the victorious party 
to get his son into Westminster School, and thither the boy, 
who had till then been brought up at home, was transplanted 
at the age of fourteen (1646). Here he remained till he was 
twenty, when he gained a Junior Studentship at Christ Church, 
Oxford. Where was our Westminster scholar, a lad of 

1 The references " F. B." are to H. R. Fox Bourne s Life of John Locke. 2 vols. 
London, 1876. 

xx Introduction. 

seventeen, when Charles I. was gazing from the scaffold on 
the crowd which reached almost to the school-gates? In 
after years the philosopher found great fault with the ordinary 
school course. " Non vitce sed scholtz discimus? he said, 
quoting Seneca. But at Westminster in his day, life with 
its fierce passions and grim tragedies came too near the 
school-room to be neglected for Latin concords and quantities. 
Locke at least never became absorbed by his school learning ; 
nor was he in his right element either at Westminster or 
Oxford. In his day the rod was wielded by Dr Busby, who 
must have seemed indeed Dictator perpehius, for he was head 
master from 1638 to 1695, a space of 57 years. Under him 
Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and even Arabic, were the studies of 
the place ; for Evelyn writes, nine years after Locke gained his 
studentship : " I heard and saw such exercises at the election 
of scholars at Westminster School to be sent to the Univer 
sity, in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic, in themes and ex 
temporary verses as wonderfully astonished me in such youths, 
some of them not above twelve or thirteen years of age. Pity 
it is that what they attain here so ripely they either do not 
retain or do not improve more considerably when they come 
to be men, though many of them do." (F. B. i. 21.) We 
gather from this passage that Locke was far above the average 
age when elected. He had enjoyed those later years at school 
which generally leave behind pleasant memories ; but no such 
memories remained with him. He ridicules the notion that a 
public school affords a good preparation for life ; and we see 
his general impression of school-life in these words : MHow 
any one s being put into a mixed herd of boys, and there 
learning to wrangle at trap or rook" at span-farthing, fits him 
for civil conversation or business, I do not see." (Infra, 70 
p. 48.) Perhaps, like another of Westminster s most celebrated 
scholars a hundred years afterwards, the poet Cowper, Locke 
was of a shy disposition and " not good at games." Boys of 
this kind are not popular ; and in a society where public 
opinion is as powerful as it is at school, the unpopular can 
hardly by any possibility be happy. 

Biographical. xxi 

Some of Locke s contemporaries, South, e.g., and Dryden, 
found the art of wrangling useful in after life, and in business 
very different from trap ; but Locke always maintained that 
the aim of disputants should be to arrive at truth ; so the art 
of arguing for party purposes, or for mere personal triumph, 
an art in those days begun at school and carried to great 
perfection at the University, was not according to the philo 
sopher a desirable accomplishment. 

Locke s peculiar view of the object of disputation gave him 
a distaste for the logical course he was compelled to go through 
at Oxford. We are told that " he never loved the trade of dis 
puting in public in the schools, but was always wont to declaim 
against it, as being invented for wrangling or ostentation rather 
than to discover truth." However, he was not his own master 
for the first seven years of his residence at Oxford, and the 
discipline in the Puritan days was severe. Christ Church was 
not then so pleasant a place of residence for undergraduates as 
it has since become. Mr Fox Bourne gives us an. account of 
an ordinary day s work, which must astonish the modern student. 
Locke had to be in chapel at 5 a.m., when besides the prayers 
tTiere was often a sermon. With an interval for breakfast his 
time was then taken up till midday dinner with attendance at 
the lectures of the Professors, or preparation for these lectures 
with the College tutor. At dinner no language might be spoken 
but either " Greek or Latin." In the afternoon came another 
public lecture, and then the University deputations and decla 
mations. In the evening he had again to attend chapel and 
afterwards to go to his tutor s rooms for private prayers, and to 
give an account of his day s occupations. This was his mode 
of life till he got his Bachelor s degree in February, 1655. 

Such a life must have been drudgery indeed to one who 
rebelled against the logic and the philosophy then in vogue. 
Imocke s opinion of Oxford logic may be seen jn iflft, jgq nf 
tr^js work.__ As to the philosophy, he in after days complained 
to his friend Le Clerc that " he had lost a great deal of time at 
the commencement of his studies, because the only philosophy 
then known at Oxford was the Peripatetic, perplexed with 

xxii Introduction. 

obscure names and useless questions." (F. B. i. p. 47.) Indeed 
he found so "little light brought to his understanding," that he 
regretted his father had sent him to the University, as he began to 
fear that " his no greater progress in knowledge proceeded from his 
not being fitted or capacitated to be a scholar." (Lady Masham, 
quoted by F. B. i. p. 47. See also infra 166, p. 140, 11. 15 ff.) 

Between taking his Bachelor s and his Master s degree 
Locke had still to attend University lectures ; but he was free 
from his tutor, so he had some time at his own disposal. The 
discouragement he felt from his slow advance in the current 
philosophy "kept him from being any very hard student," as he 
told Lady Masham, "and put him upon seeking the company of 
pleasant and witty men, with whom he likewise took great 
delight in corresponding by letters ; and in conversation and 
these correspondences he spent for some years much of his 
time." (F. B. p. 53.) 

In 1660 John Locke the father died, and the elder son came 
into a small property. Of the younger son Thomas we know 
nothing, except that he died of consumption soon after the 
father. Locke had now taken his Master s degree and obtained 
a Senior Studentship at Christ Church. He was friendly to 
the Restoration, and seems for a while to have overcome his 
dislike to the Oxford scheme of studies, for he became Tutor of 
his College and the College Reader in Greek and in Rhetoric. 
He no longer attributed the seeming obscurity of Oxford philo 
sophy to his own want of penetration. He had studied Des 
Cartes, and without becoming his follower had found him per 
fectly intelligible. Locke had much in common with Des Cartes. 
Des Cartes had been as little satisfied with the learning he 
gained from the Jesuits at La Fleche, as Locke had been satis 
fied with the learning of Westminster and Oxford, and like Locke 
he had been driven to seek in society the wisdom he had not 
found in the schools. With the study of Des Cartes began 
Locke s interest in philosophy, but it was many years before 
this turned him into an author. 

He was now undecided about a profession. As a Senior 
Student of Christ Church he would in the ordinary course have 

Biographical. xxiii 

taken Holy Orders ; and such doubts as trouble many philo 
sophic minds in these days were unknown to Locke, who speaks 
of the Bible with no less reverence than Luther himself. 
But he decided against becoming a clergyman, and for some 
time hesitated between the study of Medicine and public 
affairs. In 1665 he was appointed secretary to Sir Walter 
Vane, our ambassador to the Elector of Brandenburg, and he 
went with the ambassador to Cleve. In the amusing letters he 
wrote home to friends in England, we see that he was glad to 
escape from the life of an Oxford don. " When I left Oxford," 
he says, " I thought for a while to take leave of all University 
affairs ; but do what I can I am still kept in that track." 
He then goes on to tell of some disputations of Franciscan 
monks at which he had been present. " The moderator was 
top-full of distinctions, which he produced with so much gravity 
and applied with so good a grace that ignorant I began to 
admire logic again, and could not have thought that simpliciter 
et secundum quid materialiler et formaliler had been such 
gallant things. * * The truth is, here hog-shearing is much 
in its glory, and our disputing in Oxford conies as far short of 
it as the rhetoric of Carfax does that of Billingsgate. But it be 
hoves the monks to cherish this art of wrangling in its declining 
age, which they first nursed and sent abroad into the world to 
give it a troublesome idle employment." (F. B. i. pp. 115, 116.) 

We see in these letters that his mind was even then at work 
on questions of trade, the coinage and so forth, which he was in 
later years much concerned with. He especially ridicules the 
German coinage. A horseload of turnips, says he ; would ietch 
two horseload of money. 

This mission over, he was offered diplomatic service in 
Spain ; but he declined it, and returned to Oxford. He was not 
ambitious, and perhaps he found that his health would not stand 
the wear and tear of public life. His settled conviction was 
that " amidst the troubles and vanities of this world, there are 
but two things that bring a real satisfaction with them, that is 
virtue and knowledge." (F. B. i. p. 134; cfr. ii. p. 304, 11. 13 ff.) 
Oxford offered him great advantages for the calm pursuit of 


knowledge, especially for investigations in physical subjects, for 
which a kind of school had been formed by his friend Boyle. So 
he gave up diplomacy for medicine ; but an accident soon con 
nected him again with public affairs and with education. 

Many great men, as Horace tells us, are unknown to fame 
because no sacred poet has been found to confer immortality on 
them. Conversely many men who were not great can never be 
forgotten because they are the subjects and indeed the victims 
of celebrated epigrams. The Earl of Chatham who waited for 
Sir Richard Strachan and for whom Sir Richard waited, is as 
little likely to have his fame obscured as his illustrious father. 
But after all it is rather the name than the man who is remem 
bered in such cases ; and so it is with Dryden s " Achitophel," 
the first Lord Shaftesbury. His name is known to everyone, 
but the man himself is known only to his biographer, Mr 
Christie, and the few students of history who have patience to 
read a large book about him. Everyone else forms a notion of 
him from Dryden and Macaulay. Dryden was a professedly 
party skirmisher and knew that he was not writing history. 
Macaulay in this and in other instances thought he was writing 
history when he was merely expanding an epigram. That 
Shaftesbury s is not a name which deserves to be " by all suc 
ceeding ages cursed," is almost proved by the fact that Locke 
knew him intimately and esteemed him very highly. An acci 
dent led to Locke s introduction to Shaftesbury, then Lord 
Ashley, at Oxford, in 1666. Ashley saw at once that Locke 
was no ordinary doctor, and he found such pleasure in his 
society that he contrived to attach him to his family in an unde 
fined position, partly as physician partly as friend. Locke at 
this time did not shrink from responsibility as a doctor. Lord 
Ashley was suffering from an internal tumour caused by a fall 
from his horse. Locke undertook the delicate operation of 
drawing off the matter by inserting a silver tube. The operation 
was successful, and Lord Ashley believed himself indebted for 
his life to his friend and physician. 

In this family, duties still more delicate devolved on the 
philosopher. He had great influence over the lives of the first 

Biographical. xxv 

three earls. Of these the first was "Achitophel" of whom I have 
just spoken ; the second, a man of no further distinction than 
his title gave him, was indebted to Locke partly for his educa 
tion and entirely for his wife. The third Lord Shaftesbury, the 
author of the Characteristics, was educated according to Locke s 
advice during the lifetime of the grandfather, though he was 
afterwards sent by his father to Westminster School. From 
the literary lord we get the following particulars : " When Mr 
Locke first came into the family my father was a youth of about 
15 or 16. Him my grandfather intrusted wholly to Mr Locke 
for what remained of his education. He was an only child, and 
of no firm health, which induced my grandfather, in concern for 
his family, to think of marrying him as soon as possible." (F. 
13. i. p. 203.) The task of selecting a wife was left entirely to 
Locke, who seems to have had plenty of moral courage, though 
it has been hinted that he was not remarkable for his physical 
courage. He went to Belvoir and "arranged a marriage" with 
Lady Dorothy Manners, daughter of the Duke of Rutland, a 
lady who although only twenty at the time of the wedding was 
three years older than her husband. (See infra 216, p. 187, 
11. 3 ff.) 

But before giving an account of Locke s employments in the 
family of Lord Shaftesbury, I should mention a habit he had 
already formed at Oxford, the habit of writing out, for his own 
eye only, his thoughts on subjects which particularly interested 
him. This practice he continued through life, and in his old age 
(6 Apr. 1698) he writes to his friend Molyneux : " I have often 
had experience that a man cannot well judge of his own notions 
till either by setting them down in paper or in discoursing them 
to a friend, he has drawn them out and, as it were, spread them 
fairly before himself." When he left Oxford for the family of 
Lord Ashley in 1667 many MSS. were already in existence, some 
of which were worthier of publication than his verses, the only 
things of Locke s printed before the year 1686. The following, 
which his first biographer, Lord King, gives among his Miscel 
laneous Papers, was probably written early, and is interesting 
as showing Locke s theory of life. 

xxvi Introduction. 

"Thus I think: 

"It is a man s proper business to seek happiness and avoid 

" Happiness consists in what delights and contents the 
mind, misery in what disturbs, discomposes, or torments it. 

"I will therefore make it my business to seek satisfaction and 
delight, and avoid uneasiness and disquiet ; to have as much of 
the one and as little of the other as may be. 

"But here I must have a care I mistake not ; for if I prefer a 
short pleasure to a lasting one, it is plain I cross my own happi 

"Let me then see wherein consists the most lasting pleasure 
of this life, and that as far as I can observe is in these things : 

"ist. Health, without which no sensual pleasure can have 
any relish. 

" 2nd. Reputation, for that I find everybody is pleased with, 
and the want of it is a constant torment. 

" 3rd. Knowledge, for the little knowledge I have, I find I 
would not sell at any rate, nor part with it for any other pleasure. 

"4th. Doing good, for I find the well-cooked meat I eat 
to-day does now no more delight me, nay, I am dis-eased after 
a full meal. The perfumes I smelt yesterday now no more 
affect me with any pleasure. But the good turn I did yesterday, 
a year, seven years since, continues still to please and delight 
me as often as I reflect on it. 

"5th. The expectation of eternal and incomprehensible hap 
piness in another world is that also which carries a constant 
pleasure with it. 

"If then I will faithfully pursue that happiness I propose to 
myself, whatever pleasure offers itself to me I must carefully 
look that it cross not any of those five great and constant 
pleasures above mentioned. 

"All innocent diversions and delights as far as they will con 
tribute to my health and consist with my improvement, condition, 
and any other more solid pleasures of knowledge and reputation, 
I will enjoy, but no farther; and this I will carefully watch and 
examine that I may not be deceived by the flattery of a present 

Biographical. xxvii 

pleasure to lose a greater." (Lord King s Life of Locke, 1829, 
PP- 304 ff.) 

While in Lord Ashley s family in London Locke was in 
frequent intercourse with the great physician, Sydenham. The 
traditional learning of the doctors pleased Locke as little as the 
traditional learning of the schoolmasters or the University pro 
fessors ; and he and Sydenham set about applying Baconian 
principles to the study of medicine. Among his MSS. was 
found, with the heading De Arte Medica, a brilliant onslaught 
on the habit of being guided by hypotheses. " The beginning 
and improvement of useful arts and the assistances of human 
life," so he writes, "have all sprung from industry and observa 
tion." But " Man, still affecting something of a deity, laboured 
to make his imagination supply what his observation failed him 
in ; and when he could not discover the principles and courses 
and methods of Nature s workmanship, he would needs fashion 
all those out of his own thought, and make a world to himself, 
framed and governed by his own intelligence." (F. B. i. p. 225.) 
Thus it had come to pass that the most acute and ingenious 
part of men were by custom and education engaged in empty 
speculations. The point that Locke urges with great emphasis 
is that these speculations whether true or not are useless. " The 
notions that have been raised into men s heads By" remote 
speculative principles, though true, are like the curious imagery 
men sometimes see in the clouds which they are pleased to call 
the heavens ; which though they are for the most part fantastical, 
aireU^tbest but the accidental contexture of a mist, yet do 
really hinder sight, and shadow the prospect ; and though these 
painted apparitions are raised by the sun and seem the genuine 
offspring of the great fountain of light, yet they are really 
nothing but darkness and a cloud ; and whosoever shall travel 
with his eye fixed on these, tis ten to one goes out of his way" 
(p. 224). Hence little good had come of learning, and "he that 
could dispute learnedly of nutrition, concoction and assimilation, 
was beholden yet to the cook and the good housewife for a 
wholesome and savoury meal" (225, 226). The ordinary learn 
ing deserved not the name of knowledge. "They that are 

xxviii Introduction. 

studiously busy in the cultivating and adorning such dry barren 
notions are vigorously employed to little purpose ; and might 
with as much reason have retrimmed, now they are men, the 
babies they made when they were children as exchanged them 
for those empty impracticable notions that are but the puppets 
of men s fancies and imaginations, which however dressed up 
are after 40 years dandling but puppets still, void of strength, 
use or activity" (p. 226). 

We see here the principles on which Locke doctored in Lord 
Ashley s family. He cut himself completely adrift from the 
ordinary methods, so much so indeed that in the Dedication 
to Lord Ashley which Locke wrote for Sydenham s book on 
Small-pox, Locke feels that he ought to stand on the defensive. 
"At least, my lord," he writes, " I thought it reasonable to let 
you see that I had practised nothing in your family but what I 
durst own and publish to the world ; and let my countrymen 
see that I tell them nothing here but what I have already tried 
with no ill success on several in the family of one of the greatest 
and most eminent personages amongst them." (F. 13. i. 232.) 

What Locke s educational practice was we can only infer 
from this book of Thoughts written some 20 years later ; but 
Locke was no more attached (as we have seen) to the estab 
lished system in education than in medicine, and he no doubt 
innovated with equal boldness in both (cfr. F. B. ii. 11. 13 ff.). 
The second Lord Shaftesbury turned out a stronger man in 
body than was expected, but Locke s hardening system was 
not tried upon him as a child ; and he was married while still 
a youth. In this case Locke secured at best only one of his desi 
derata : the mots sana was wanting in corpore sano. 

At this time he seems to have intended keeping for life to 
the profession of medicine : but his occupations in Lord Ashley s 
family were very varied, including the settlement of " the Go 
vernment of Carolina;" so that he could not get into pro 
fessional habits : and before he reached his 4Oth year he was 
attacked by the cough which made him an invalid the rest of 
his days. His " carcase was made of a very ill composition," as 
he himself wrote at this time; and residence in London was 

Biographical. xxix 

very trying to it. But as his friend and patron climbed higher 
and higher to the eminence from which he at length fell head 
long, he found more and more need for Locke s services. After 
a short visit to France Locke was appointed in 1672 to the post 
of "Secretary of Presentations," with a salary of ,300, by the 
new Lord Chancellor, who was no more Lord Ashley but had 
been created Earl of Shaftesbury. Locke s relations with the 
nobleman had been hitherto those of intimacy. We see this 
from the anecdote of Locke s notes of conversation. On one 
occasion some celebrated men were the guests of Lord Ashley, 
and all except Locke sat down to cards. Locke took a pencil 
and wrote, and when Lord Ashley asked him how he was em 
ployed, he said : "I have been looking forward to being present 
at the meeting of such eminent men, nothing doubting but that 
I should profit by their conversation. I have now put on paper 
everything that has been said for half an hour, and I will read 
it that you may judge whether I have had so great a benefit as 
I had hoped." He then read a string of small observations 
about the game. This, we are told, brought the game to an 
abrupt conclusion. Here Locke was allowed the freedom of an 
associate. But from the time of his appointment to the Secre 
taryship he held a position which seems to us below the dignity 
of so great a man. During term time he was expected to attend 
prayers at seven and eleven every morning and at six every after 
noon, and on every Sunday in the morning a sermon, and " on 
Easter Sunday and Whit Sunday and Christmas Day a Com 
munion." When the Chancellor drove out in state Locke with 
the other Secretaries walked by the side of the coach, "and 
when my lord went to take coach or came out of his coach " 
they "went before him bareheaded." (F. B. i. 279.) 

Unfortunately Locke s connexion with Shaftesbury, and 
Shaftesbury s submission to the policy of the King compelled 
the philosopher to act as prompter, standing behind the Chan 
cellor when he made his discreditable speech in favour of war 
with Holland for the furtherance of "British interests," and in a 
nominally Christian senate revived the heathen cry " Delenda 
est Carthago? (Cp. Seeley s Expansion of England p. 79.) 

xxx Introduction. 

But subservient as the Chancellor was when only the Dutch 
were concerned, he could not adopt the policy of the Treaty of 
Dover: and in November 1673 he was dismissed from office. 
Locke thus lost the secretaryship, but not the work of a secre 
tary. " When my grandfather quitted the court and began to 
be in danger from it," writes the third Lord Shaftesbury, " Mr 
Locke now shared with him in dangers as before in honours 
and advantages. He entrusted him with his secretest negotia 
tions and made use of his assistant pen in matters that nearly 
concerned the State and were fit to be made public." (F. B. 
i. 285.) Another secretaryship, that to the Council for Trade and 
Foreign Plantations, had also been held by Locke with a nominal 
salary of ,600 a year, but it did not prove a lucrative office, 
as the salary, though fixed by Charles and granted "under 
the Privy Seal" was never paid. Shaftesbury endeavoured to 
provide for his friend by selling him an annuity of ,100 a year 
at a moderate price, and this annuity was paid till Locke s 

In 1675 the state of Locke s health rendered it necessary 
for him to seek a warmer climate, and he went to France, 
where he spent the next four years (1675 9). Relieved from 
the toil, the excitement, and the perils of party struggles, Locke 
now turned again to the more congenial domain of abstract 
thought. On his way back from Montpellier to Paris in the 
spring of 1677, he made entries in his journal on the subject 
of study, which, collected as they are by Lord King, form an 
essay valuable in itself and extremely interesting to those who 
are seeking for the ground-thoughts of the writer. (See 
Appendix A.) 

During this respite from politics Locke was again engaged 
in education. His patron and friend "Achitophel" wrote to 
him at the beginning of 1677 from the only place he could 
then date from, " the Tower," to request him to take a new 
pupil. " Sir John Banks, my intimate good friend, is sending 
his son into France to travel about that country for four or 
five months. He hath already learnt the French tongue, but 
is very willing to let him see the manners of those people. : 

Biographical. xxxi 

Sir John intends to send him over to Paris about a fortnight 
hence in the custody of Sir Richard Button who is going 
thither, and there is very desirous, if you will undertake 
that charge, to have him recommended to your care. In 
order thereunto he begs the kindness of you to come and 
meet him at Paris, where Sir R. D. is to deliver him up to 
your care. As for the charges of your travels, Sir John is to 
defray them, and will otherwise, as he saith, give you such 
a reward as becometh a gentleman." Locke went to Paris 
from Montpellier accordingly, and took charge of this pupil, 
the son of a merchant, who from small beginnings "had 
amassed," says Evelyn, ",100,000." The tutorship lasted 
for nearly two years, but we have no particulars about it. 
We do not even know the age of the pupil, but as " he had 
already learnt the French tongue " he was probably in his 
teens. He was old enough to begin mathematics, but Locke 
found that he did not know the very rudiments of logic. 
For disputations, as we have seen, Locke had the extremest 
aversion ; but he seems to have thought logic necessary 
before mathematics. To begin mathematics without any know 
ledge of logic, he says, " is a method of study I have not 
known practised, and seems to me not very reasonable" (Locke 
to Banks, F. B. i. 378). From this correspondence we may 
conclude I think that foreign travel was the finishing stage of an 
education conducted " regardless of expense." 

Locke now spent a good deal of time in Paris, and being 
well known to the English Ambassador, Montague, he made 
many acquaintances. His chief associates were men engaged 
in scientific inquiry, and his own thoughts were much occupied 
with physical science, as we see by his letters to Boyle and 
by his questions about effervescence, to which Dr John Brown 
has called attention in Hora Siibsetivce. He even undertook 
the medical care of the English Ambassadress, the Countess 
of Northumberland, and was more successful than the French 
doctors had been. 

At length in 1679 Locke after a tour about France with 
his pupil (of whom we hear no more) was called back to 


England to join Shaftesbury, no longer in the Tower, but 
by a turn of the wheel again placed in office as Lord President 
of the Council. Locke obeyed the summons, but he probably 
expected little happiness or success from the change of affairs. 
He wrote to his Paris correspondent Thoynard that he 
"derived no pleasure from the prospect of returning to his 
native land." (F. B. i. 409.) Perhaps this was partly on 
account of his health. " I shall be well enough at my ease," 
he writes to Mapletoft, " if when I return I can but maintain 
this poor tenement of mine in the same repair it is at 
present without hope ever to find it much better." (F. B. 
i. 407.) He had had some hopes of settling as Professor 
of Medicine at Gresham College in Bishopsgate; but the post 
did not fall vacant, and Locke started again in the whirlpool 
of politics, which in those days soon sucked down to the 
bottom all who managed to show themselves for a little while 
at the top. After three years of plots and counterplots the 
new Lord President s head was saved by the "Ignoramus" of 
the Grand Jury, and he escaped to Holland, where he died 
very soon afterwards. Locke had probably no knowledge of 
the plot in favour of Monmouth ; but his connexion with 
Shaftesbury was so close, and the Court party were such good 
haters and so little under the restraints of law, that another 
residence abroad became prudent, and Locke escaping to 
Holland was an exile there from 1683 till he returned with 
Queen Mary in 1689. 

Before we go abroad with him we will see how he had been 
employed in England. We need not concern ourselves with 
his share in politics, but up to the time of Shaftesbury s fall 
Locke had had his Lordship s private affairs as well as public 
affairs to think of ; and among these, one which greatly interested 
the old lord was the education of his grandson. When the 
child was but three years old "Achitophel" induced the father 
to give him up entirely, and from that time till the flight and 
death of the grandfather the child was brought up under Locke s 
directions. Locke engaged as a governess a Mistress Elizabeth 
Birch, the daughter of a schoolmaster of that name, a lady 

Biographical. xxxiii 

possessing the unusual accomplishment of speaking Latin and 
Greek. No doubt the child was to learn these languages 
Latin at least colloquially; and as Locke nearly 20 years later 
declares this to be the best method, perhaps it was tried with 
some success as in the case of Montaigne. But Locke s absence 
in France from 1675 to 1679 prevented his superintending the 
experiment. The grandfather when in the Tower had perhaps 
more time to attend to the child s education than he usually had 
for domestic matters, and in 1677 we find him through his 
secretary directing Locke to inquire in France about books for 
him. " His Lordship desires you will inquire and let him know 
what books the Dauphin was first initiated in to learn Latin. 
He apprehends there are some books, both Latin and French, 
either Janua-linguarums or colloquies ; and he also desires to 
know what grammars. This he conceives may best be learnt 
from those two printers that printed the Dauphin s books." 
(Stringer to Locke, 16 Aug. 1677. F. B. i. 376, 7.) The child 
at this time was between six and seven. He was nearly nine 
when Locke returned, and he was then for three years entirely 
under Locke s control. A house was taken at Clapham and 
there Mistress Birch was established with the child, and Locke 
paid them frequent visits. How close his attendance was we 
may judge from a passage in a letter of his to the old lord. " I 
have not had the opportunity this one day that I have been in 
town to go and wait on Mr Anthony." (F. 6.1.424.) "Mr 
Anthony," better known as the third Earl of Shaftesbury and the 
author of the Characteristics , thus writes of his own early years : 
" In our education Mr Locke governed according to his own 
principles, since published by him, and with such success that 
we all of us came to full years with strong and healthy constitu 
tions my own the worst, though never faulty till of late. I was 
his more peculiar charge, being as eldest son taken by my 
grandfather and bred under his immediate care, Mr Locke 
having the absolute direction of my education, and to whom, 
next my immediate parents, as I must own the greatest obliga 
tion, so I have ever preserved the highest gratitude and duty." 
(F. B. i. 424) I cannot agree with Mr Fox Bourne that after the 

xxxiv Introduction. 

above assertion of the person best informed in the matter "there 
is nothing to show that Locke had to do with any but the eldest 
of the grandchildren," but after the death of the first earl Locke 
had no influence with the second. Mr Anthony was no longer 
brought up on Locke s principles, but a step was taken which 
no doubt Locke would have done much to prevent the lad was 
sent to Westminster School. Mr Fox Bourne surmises that the 
lad was tormented by the boys as the grandson of a traitor ; 
but in the public schools of days gone by it was probably far 
better to be the grandson, or son even, of an outlawed nobleman 
than of the most prosperous and respected tradesman. However 
this may have been, the author of the Characteristics seems to 
have been as little satisfied with the ordinary education of his 
time as Locke himself, and he expresses nothing but contempt 
for " pedants and schoolmasters." 

We have now come to the most troubled period of Locke s 
life. At the age of 50 and in wretched health he had six years 
of exile before him, not in France, where the climate would have 
suited him, but for safety s sake, in Holland, where the Govern 
ment would not be so ready to give him up, or at all events to 
find him if, as it actually turned out, the English Government 
should demand him among the proscribed. After Shaftesbury s 
escape Locke seems at first to have hoped that he would be 
unmolested at Oxford. Under the date Oct. 24, 1682, his college 
contemporary Prideaux writes : "John Locke lives very quietly 
with us ; and not a word ever drops from his mouth that dis 
covers anything of his heart within. Now his master is fled, 
I suppose we shall have him here [z .e. at Christ Church] alto 
gether. He seems to be a man of very good converse, and that 
we have of him with content [sic] ; as for what he is, he keeps 
it to himself, and therefore troubles us not with it nor we him." 
(Letters of Humphrey Prideaux to John Ellis : edited by E. M. 
Thompson for Camden Society, 1875, p. 134.) But with all his 
caution Locke did not feel safe in England, so in the autumn of 
1683 he crossed the Channel and took refuge in Holland. 
Charles, finding he could not get at Locke, did all the mischief 
that still lay in his power, and in his way of doing so showed 

Biographical. xxxv 

that it was well Locke had not trusted to the laws to protect him. 
Charles compelled the Dean (the identical Dr Fell whose well- 
known unpopularity has remained a mystery) to deprive Locke 
of his studentship, and thus ended his connexion with Oxford. 

From 1683 till 1685 Locke travelled about Holland, and 
made the acquaintance of learned men, especially at Leyden: 
but after the death of Charles II. and the Monmouth Insurrec 
tion, a list of 84 "traitors and plotters against the life of James 
II." was sent to the Dutch Government, and the last name on 
this list was that of Locke. 

Locke had now to spend some time in concealment, and only 
two or three friends knew where he was. The Earl of Pembroke 
and William Penn interceded with the King for a pardon, which 
James promised if Locke would come to England ; but Locke 
replied that he " had no occasion for a pardon, having com 
mitted no crime." However, a pardon was granted in 1686. 

Locke could now again move about freely, and have the 
society of his friends. Among his new acquaintances was a 
Genevese named Le Clerc, or, as he was often called in those 
days of Latin correspondence, Clericus. By his new friend 
Locke was induced to write for a magazine of which Le Clerc 
was editor, the Bibliothcque Universelle; and thus at the age of 
54 Locke began to give his thoughts to the world. Mr Fox 
Bourne thus describes the change: " Hitherto we have found that 
he was pre-eminently a student. Henceforth we shall find him 
a humble, painstaking student still, but pre-eminently an author; 
so zealous an author that the remaining eighteen years of his 
life did not give him time enough to pour out for the world s 
instruction all the old thoughts that he had been accumulating, 
and all the new thoughts that took shape in a mind which 
retained the vigour of its youth long after the body had grown 
old." (F. B. ii. 45, 46.) The great work which has made Locke 
famous, the Essay on the Human Understanding, had been 
growing for some years. It was now nearly completed, and an 
epitome of it appeared in Le Clerc s Bibliotltique Universelie. 
Another work much less elaborate indeed, but, as it proved, of 
no small importance, was in progress during these years of exile, 

xxxvi Introduction. 

though even the author hardly knew that he was writing it. 
Locke from his first residence at Oxford had been a great letter- 
writer. Now-a-days we do not know what a letter is. The late 
Sir Rowland Hill has destroyed for most people the very con 
ception of one, though indeed he only gave letter-writing the 
coup de grace ; the practice could not long have survived the 
general extension of railways. But in those days friends could 
seldom meet, and the letter sent at sufficiently long intervals on 
account of the high rate of postage was tht general means of 
communication for those who had ideas and the wish to com 
municate them. One of Locke s friends in England, Mr Edward 
Clarke, of Chipley, near Taunton, was anxious for advice about 
the bringing up of his son ; and as this problem had been much 
in Locke s thoughts, the philosopher wrote from Holland a series 
of letters on the subject, which, four years after his return to 
England, he was induced to publish as Thoughts concerning 
Education. No doubt the letters were more elaborate than 
they would have been but for a notion in the writer s mind that 
they might some day be used as material for a treatise ; but 
they were written (to use Locke s own words on a similar 
occasion) in " the style which is such as a man writes carelessly 
to his friends, when he seeks truth, not ornament, and studies 
only to be in the right and to be understood." (F. B. ii. 189.) 
As he afterwards found no time to work up these letters into a 
regular dissertation, he was content to publish them as Thoughts. 
The work was a favourite one with him ; and he kept adding to 
it as long as he lived. But as a literary work it suffered much from 
being composed in this irregular and patchwork fashion. The 
sentences are often very carelessly constructed ; and short as the 
book is, it contains a good deal of tiresome repetition. But when 
a mind like Locke s applies itself to an important subject, all 
men are interested in the result; and the Thoughts concerning 
Education has been hitherto the solitary English classic in 
Pedagogy. We have now perhaps a second in the work of 
Mr Herbert Spencer. 

During the latter part of his stay in Holland Locke was 
at Rotterdam, and in frequent communication with William 

Biographical. xxxvii 

and Mary at the Hague. They both of them had the penetra 
tion to estimate Locke at his true value. William soon gave a 
remarkable proof of this by offering him, as we shall see, one 
of the highest and most important posts among our ambassa 
dors ; and in later years the King honoured him in a right 
royal fashion by sending for him to ask his advice when the 
journey nearly cost him his life. 

Thus the Revolution gave back to England the writer who 
by his influence on European thought soon formed one of her 
main intellectual ties with the Continent. Reviewing the five 
years and a half spent in Holland, Locke writes to his Dutch 
friend Limborch, " 1 know not how such a large portion of my 
life could elsewhere have been spent more pleasantly. Certainly 
it could not have been spent more profitably" (F. B. li. 85). 
It was the old story. Dame Fortune had tried to do him a 
bad turn, and had done him a good one. " Ilia premendo 
sustulit? By giving him leisure she had assisted in making 
a nobleman s private secretary one of the greatest men of the 
age. Taking with him the MS. of the Essay on the Human 
Understanding, and glad "to cross the Channel, crowded as 
it is just now with ships of war and infested with pirates, 
in such good company," Locke sailed from Rotterdam with 
the Princess Mary and landed at Greenwich, Feb. I2th, 1689. 

Within a week of his proclamation as King, William 
endeavoured to send Locke as our ambassador to Prussia ; 
but Locke declined. His main reason for his refusal was 
the state of his health. "What shall a man do in the 
necessity of application and variety of attendance on business 
to be followed there, who sometimes after a little motion has 
not breath to speak, and cannot borrow an hour or two of 
watching from the night without repaying it with a great 
waste of time the next day?" His second reason is a more 
curious one. The ambassador to the Elector of Brandenburg 
(there was no "King of Prussia" till twelve years later, i.e. till 
1701) ought to be a man valiant to mingle or at least swallow 
strong drink, and Locke felt himself wanting in this indispen 
sable qualification. " I imagine," he writes, " whatever I may 


do there myself, the knowing what others are doing is at least 
one half of my business ; and I know no such rack in the 
world to draw out men s thoughts as a well-managed bottle. 
If therefore it were fit for me to advise in this case, I should 
think it more for the King s interest to send a man of 
equal parts, that could drink his share, than the soberest 
man in the kingdom" (Locke to Lord Mordaunt, 21 Feb., 
16889. F. B. ii. 146). 

The King however would hardly be persuaded to leave 
Locke in peace. If Cleve and Berlin were too cold, would he 
go to Vienna? or would he choose his own post? But Locke 
was not to be flattered into diplomacy when he had the great 
Essay concerning Human Understanding just ready for the 
press. He now brought out the work with as little delay as 
possible, and the booksellers had it early in 1690. 

We have now come to the last period of Locke s life, 
the fifteen years which followed his return from exile. During 
this time Locke was able to do what he had never done before, 
pass his days in a settled home. The home was indeed not 
his own, but for a bachelor it was better than his own. Locke 
had many years before this become acquainted with the Cud- 
worths, i.e. the well-known writer Ralph Cudworth, his son 
Thomas, and his daughter Damaris. The daughter was now the 
second wife of Sir Francis Masham and the step-mother of Samuel 
Masham, who became Lord Masham, and secured for his name 
a place in English history by marrying Abigail Hill, the favourite 
of Queen Anne. Sir Francis Masham, who was one of the county 
members, lived at Gates, in the parish of High Laver, four 
or five miles from Chipping Ongar in Essex. Locke s health 
made residence in London, especially in winter, almost impos 
sible, so he at length took refuge with his friends at Gates, 
and securing his independence by paying his share of the 
household expenses, he passed the rest of his days as a member 
of their family. These were, as I have said, the days of his 
authorship, and his pen was at work till the last. Besides 
his literary employment he held offices which took him often 
to London. From the time of his return to England he held 

Biographical. xxxix 

a post with light duties, that of Commissioner of Appeals ; 
and from 1696 till 1700 he was a member of a new " Council 
of Trade and Plantations," and as such he was much occupied 
with the problems of what we now call political economy. 

We however must confine ourselves to the humbler sphere 
of education. We saw that Locke during his residence in 
Holland had put his main ideas on this subject into a series of 
letters to Mr Edward Clarke. At Gates his interest in educa 
tion was revived by a fresh opportunity for experiment. In the 
family were Lady Masham s step-daughter Esther, a girl of six 
teen, and her own son Frank, a child between four and five. 
Frank Mashamwas henceforth brought up according to Locke s 
hardening system, with, as we are assured, the best results. 
Locke was no mere theorizer of the study and library ; he 
delighted in bringing his new notions in contact with experience. 
Even when an exile in Holland he took so much interest in the 
little son of a Quaker merchant of Rotterdam that in after years 
the young man, by name Arent Furly, is spoken of by the third 
Lord Shaftesbury as " a kind of foster-child to Mr Locke." To 
his family of foster-children was now added Frank Masham ; 
and doubtless the letters to Edward Clarke were referred to, 
and the plans there suggested carried out. At this time Locke 
had struck up a friendship by post with an Irish gentleman, Mr 
William Molyneux, a friendship which lasted for six years before 
the friends met. They did at last shake hands, and Molyneux 
spent a few days at Gates ; but he died suddenly in the same 
year soon after his return to Ireland. The correspondence was 
opened by Locke in July, 1692 ; and in the following year we 
find Molyneux urging Locke to publish his thoughts on educa 
tion. He writes: "My brother has sometimes told me that 
whilst he had the happiness of your acquaintance at Leyden you 
were upon a work on the method of learning, and that too, 
at the request of a tender father for the use of his only son. 
Wherefore, good Sir, let me most earnestly intreat you by no 
means to lay aside this infinitely useful work till you have 
finished it, for twill be of vast advantage to all mankind as well 
as particularly to me your entire friend. * * * There could no- 

xl Introduction. 

thing be more acceptable to me than the hopes thereof, and that 
on this account : I have but one child in the world, who is now 
nigh four years old and promises well. His mother left him to 
me very young, and my affections (I must confess) are strongly 
placed in him. It has pleased God by the liberal provision of 
our ancestors to free me from the toiling care of providing a 
fortune for him, so that my whole study shall be to lay up a 
treasure of knowledge in his mind for his happiness both in this 
life and the next. And I have been often thinking of some 
method for his instruction that may best obtain the end I 
propose. And now, to my great joy, I hope to be abundantly 
supplied by your method." (W. Molyneux to Locke, March 2nd, 
169!.) Here we see that Molyneux fell into the common snare 
of supposing that a treasure of knowledge in the mind was the 
main thing to be thought of in education. The book was to 
expose this error. Three weeks later (28 March, 1693) Locke 
writes to him that the work has gone to the printer at his 
instance. " That which your brother tells you on this occasion, 
is not wholly beside the matter. The main of what I now 
publish, is but what was contain d in several letters to a friend 
of mine, the greatest part whereof were writ out of Holland. 
How your brother came to know of it I have clearly forgot, and 
do not remember that ever I communicated it to any body there. 
These letters, or at least some of them, have been seen by some 
of my acquaintance here, who would needs persuade me twould 
be of use to publish them : your impatience to see them has 
not, I assure you, slackened my hand, or kept me in suspense ; 
and I wish now they were out, that you might the sooner see 
them, and I the sooner have your opinion of them. I know not 
yet whether I shall set my name to this discourse, and therefore 
shall desire you to conceal it. You see I make you my con 
fessor, for you have made yourself my friend." (L. to W. 
M., 28 March, 1693.) The book was indeed at first sent 
forth without a name ; but no attempt was made to keep -the 
secret. Pierre Coste in the preface to his French translation 
published in 1695, says that the author is well known to be "the 
great philosopher, Mr Locke," and Lojke himself in the later 

Biographical. xli 

editions put his name to the letter in which he dedicates the 
book to Edward Clarke. 

The author wishes his friend to give his unbiassed opinion ; 
and accordingly in the next letter Molyneux takes exception to 
Locke s rule that children should not have what they ask for, 
still less what they cry for. The author, like most people who 
ask for criticism, does not seem pleased with it when given. He 
stoutly defends all he has written, and makes the most of inaccu 
racies in the critic s account of it. Molyneux declares himself 
satisfied, but his objection led Locke to explain his views on the 
point at greater length in the second edition. 

In the Molyneux correspondence there is much about educa 
tion. In trying to carry out Locke s scheme Molyneux naturally 
found some difficulty in securing the model tutor. He writes to 
his friend to help him, and holds out a prospect which we must 
suppose was in those days considered a good one, but which we 
should not have thought good enough to draw the model tutor 
so great a distance. " He should eat at my own table," writes 
Molyneux, " and have his lodging, washing, firing and candle 
light in my house, in a good handsome apartment ; and besides 
this, I should allow him 20 per Ann." (W. M. to L., 2 June, 
1694.) These terms seem to have tempted not an Englishman in 
deed but a Scotsman ; and, says Locke, " the Scotch have now 
here a far greater reputation for this sort of employment than 
our own countrymen." (L. to W. M., 28 June, 1694.) However, 
Molyneux engaged a tutor without after all going so far afield. 
Locke was naturally anxious to learn how the experiment 
succeeded, and he was gratified by good reports. On July 2nd, 
1695, he writes to Molyneux: "I am extremely glad to hear 
that you have found any good effects of my method on your son. 
I should be glad to know the particulars ; for though I have 
seen the success of it in a child of the lady, in whose house I am 
(whose mother has taught him Latin without knowing it herself 
when she began), yet I would be glad to have other instances ; 
because some men who cannot endure any thing should be 
mended in the world by a new method, object, I hear, that my 
way of education is impracticable. But this I can assure you, 

xlii Introduction, 

that the child above-mention d [i.e. Frank Masham], but nine 
years old in June last, has learned to read and write very well ; 
is now reading Qitzntus Curtius with his mother ; understands 
geography and chronology very well, and the Copernican system 
of our Vortex ; is able to multiply well, and divide a little ; and 
all this without ever having one blow for his book. The third 
edition is now out ; I have order d Mr Churchill to send you one 
of them, which I hope he has done before this. I expect your 
opinion of the additions, which have much encreased the bulk of 
the book." (L. toW. M., 2 July, 1695 ) In reply Molyneux sends 
" a short account of his little boy s progress." We cannot help 
wondering what the philosopher thought of it. Surely he must 
have felt that Molyneux, while seeking to carry out his instruc 
tions to the letter, had missed the spirit of them, and that the 
Thoughts might after all be the innocent cause of the world s 
being plagued with many an enfant terrible. This is what 
Locke found that he was responsible for. " My little boy," 
writes Molyneux, " was six years old about the middle of last 
July. When he was but just turn d five, he could read perfectly 
well ; and on the Globes could have traced out, and pointed at 
all the noted parts, countries, and cities of the world, both land 
and sea : and by five and an half, could perform many of the 
plainest problems on the Globe ; as the longitude and latitude, 
the Antipodes, the time with them and other countries, &c. and 
this by way of play and diversion, seldom call d to it, never chid 
or beaten for it. About the same age he could read any number 
of figures, not exceeding six places, break it as you please by 
cyphers or zeros. By the time he was six, he could manage a 
compass, ruler and pencil, very prettily, and perform many little 
geometrical tricks, and advanced to writing and arithmetick ; 
and has been about three months at Latin, wherein his tutor 
observes, as nigh as he can, the method prescrib d by you. He 
can read a Gazette, and, in the large maps of Sanson, shews 
most of the remarkable places as he goes along, and turns to the 
proper maps. He has been shewn some dogs dissected, and 
can give some little account of the grand traces of anatomy. 
And as to the formation of his mind, which you rightly observe 

Biographical. xliii 

to be the most valuable part of education, I do not believe that 
any child had ever his passions more perfectly at command. 
He is obedient and observant to the nicest particular, and at the 
same time sprightly, playful, and active." (W. M. to L., 24 
Aug., 1695.) 

Recognizing as he did the " obligation of doing something," 
Locke was urged by his friends to new literary labours. Thus 
he answers Molyneux when the friend proposed to him a work 
on Morality : " You write to me as if ink had the same spell 
upon me that mortar, as the Italians say, has upon others, that 
when I had once got my fingers into it, I could never after 
wards keep them out. I grant that methinks I see subjects 
enough, which way so ever I cast my eyes, that deserve to be 
otherwise handled than I imagine they have been ; but they 
require abler heads and stronger bodies than I have, to manage 
them. Besides, when I reflect on what I have done, I wonder 
at my own bold folly, that has so far exposed me in this nice 
and critical as well as quick-sighted and learned age. I say not 
this to excuse a lazy idleness to which I intend to give up the 
rest of my few days. I think every one, according to what way 
Providence has placed him in, is bound to labour for the publick 
good as far as he is able, or else he has no right to eat." (L. to 
W. M., 19 Jan., 1693.) 

It was no doubt this high sense of his duty to labour for 
the public good which induced Locke to accept from the King 
a post as Commissioner of " Trade and Plantations." We 
must pass over his very important functions in this office 
and mention only his proposals for the bringing up of the 
children of paupers, proposals which though they were never 
carried out have a great interest for students of the history 
of education. For all pauper children over three years old 
he schemed a training in " working schools," in which they 
would both work and be fed, though the diet was to consist 
simply of bread, " to which may be added without any trouble, 
in cold weather, if it be thought needful, a little warm water- 
gruel ; for the same fire that warms the room may be made use 
of to boil a pot of it." We have in this scheme some rudimen- 

xliv Introduction. 

tary notions of "compulsion." "If any boy or girl under 14 
years of age shall be found begging out of the parish where they 
dwell, if within five miles distance of the said parish, they shall 
be sent to the next working school, there to be soundly whipped 
and kept at work till evening, so that they may be dismissed 
time enough to get to their place of abode that night. Or, if 
they live farther than five miles off from the place where they 
are taken begging, they are to be sent to the next house of cor 
rection, there to remain at work six weeks and so much longer 
as till the next sessions after the end of the six weeks." (F. B. 
ii. 381.) The project of these "Working Schools" is too long 
to be quoted here, but I will add it in an appendix (App. B). 

It is not within the object of this sketch to give an account 
of Locke s general correspondence, but I must mention that 
some of the letters preserved are to and from " Mr Newton," 
whom we know as Sir Isaac. In these letters Locke appears to 
greater advantage than the younger and now more celebrated 
philosopher ; for Newton "by sleeping too often by my fire," as 
he says, "got an ill habit of sleeping," i.e. of not sleeping ; and 
when he had had next to no sleep for a fortnight he made dis 
paraging remarks about Locke, called him a Hobbist and wished 
him dead. This done he wrote to Locke (Sep. i6th, 1693) to 
announce the fact and to ask pardon 1 . 

A more pleasing part of the correspondence tells of mutual 
visits to Gates and Cambridge. On May 3rd, 1692, Newton 
writes to Locke from Cambridge : " Now that the churlish 
weather is almost over I was thinking within a post or two to 
put you in mind of my desire to see you here, where you shall be 
as welcome as I can make you. I am glad you have prevented 
me, because I hope now to see you the sooner. You may lodge 
conveniently either at the Rose Tavern or Queen s Arms Inn." 
(F. B. ii. 232.) Locke went to Cambridge, where it seems he 
was welcome to choose his own hotel. The Universities were 
very slow in recognizing the importance of the Essay of Human, 

1 For the letters between Newton and Locke, especially for an interesting account 
how Newton nearly lost his eye-sight from experiments in looking at the sun, see 
Lord King s Locke (1829), pp. 220 ff. 

Biographical. xlv 

Understanding. In the summer of 1696 Locke had been told that 
his essay began to get some credit in Cambridge, "where," says he, 
" I think for some years after it was published it was scarce so 
much as looked into." (L. to W. Molyneux, 2 July, 1696. For 
Essay at Oxf. see L. to W. M., 26 Ap. 1695 and Dunciadvr. 195, 6.) 
I have now given enough (perhaps more than was necessary) 
about the life of Locke to enable the reader to understand the 
philosopher s connexion with education, and I hasten to the 
close. In spite of his wretched health he reached the age of 72. 
We have from his own pen a very pleasing account of a day at 
Gates when he expected each winter to be his last. In January, 
169!, he writes from Gates to his friend Molyneux that he has 
escaped from London to his "wonted refuge in the more favour 
able air and retirement of this place." He goes on : " That gave 
me presently relief against the constant oppression of my lungs, 
whilst I sit still : bu{ I find such a weakness of them still remain, 
that if I stir ever so little, I am immediately out of breath, and 
the very dressing or undressing me is a labour that I am fain to 
rest after to recover my breath ; and I have not been once out 
of my house since I came last hither. I wish nevertheless that 
you were here with me to see how well I am : for you would 
find that, sitting by the fire s side, I could bear my part in dis 
coursing, laughing, and being merry with you, as well as ever I 
could in my life. If you were here (and if wishes of more than 
one could bring you, you would be here to-day) you would find 
three or four in the parlour after dinner, who you would say, 
pass d their afternoons as agreeably and as jocundly as any 
people you have this good while met with. Do not therefore 
figure to your self that I am languishing away my last hours 
under an unsociable despondency and the weight of my infirmity. 
Tis true, I do not count upon years of life to come, but I thank 
God I have not many uneasy hours here in the four and twenty ; 
and if I can have the wit to keep my self out of the stifling air 
of London, I see no reason but, by the grace of God, I may get 
over this winter, and that terrible enemy of mine may use me no 
worse than the last did, which, as severe and as long as it was, 
let me yet see another summer." (L. to W. M., 10 Jan., 169^.) 

xlvi Introduction. 

Six winters more spared him, and he had passed away before 
the seventh. On the 2/th Oct., 1704, he felt that he could not 
live much longer. " My work here is almost at an end," he said 
to Lady Masham, " and I thank God for it. I may perhaps die 
to-night ; but I cannot live above three or four days. Remem 
ber me in your evening prayers." He was right. The end, a 
very peaceful one, came the following day. 

If we could analyse the Thoughts of Locke or of any other 

(writer on education we should find they came from three sources, 
i. Some are the result of the writer s own experience. 2. Some 
have been suggested by other minds. 3. Some have been 
arrived at by the working of the writer s own mind and its efforts 
to construct a road according to the principles of right reason. 

i. We are all of course much under the influence of our own 
bringing up. To some extent we are conscious of this. When 
we think about education, we go back to our own early days and 
determine that some things we remember were worth imitating, 
others worth avoiding. With the reformers the feeling must be 
that most of their own and the common bringing up is wrong. 
As Locke says, it is their dissent from what is established that 
sets them upon writing (p. 26, 1. 36). But here and there they 
recommend some plan of their own parents or teachers . A 
good instance of this occurs in Locke s advice to fathers to treat 
their children with some severity at first, and to become more 
familiar and companionable with them as they grow older. In 
stances of the negative influence of his own experience occur 
throughout this work. And the influence of our own experience 
is often far stronger than appears. When our mind seems to 
be moving freely in a straight course it is often in fact deflected 
by being secretly repelled from some object of our dislike. 
\ E.g. Locke was not happy as a boy at Westminster, and though 
his mind was singularly calm and judicial we find his unpleasant 
remembrances prevented him from seeing the good side of the 
training in public schools. 

Critical. xlvii 

2 and 3. When "in the quietness of thought" he endeavours 
to settle the true ideal, even the most original and active-minded 
man must often be beholden for guidance to other people. Some 
writers indeed act mainly as reporters, and pass on what others 
have said. These collectors of thoughts are by no means useless, 
and if their specimens are well arranged and properly labelled 
we may visit their museums for pleasure and instruction. But 
Locke is no collector. Few thinkers have ever had so little 
respect for tradition and authority. His belief in reason rises 
almost to an enthusiasm, like Wordsworth s belief in Nature. 

"Nature never did betray 
" The heart that loved her ; " 

sings Wordsworth. " The faculty of reasoning seldom or never 
deceives those who trust to it," says Locke. (C. of /.) No 
one has gone further than Locke (though oddly enough he seems 
here echoing Montaigne) in maintaining that our only mental 
possessions are what our own minds have given us. According 
to him, he that thinks his understanding is not to be relied on 
in the search of truth "cuts off his own legs that he may be 
carried up and down by others, and makes himself a ridiculous 
dependant upon the knowledge of others, which can possibly be 
of no use to him ; for / can no more know anything by another 
maifs understanding than I can see by another man s eyes. 
...Whatever other men have, it is their possession, it belongs not 
to me, nor can be communicated to me but by making me alike 
knowing ; it is a treasure that cannot be lent or made over" 
(Of Study?) At first sight it might seem that if the treasure 
cannot be lent or made over it is mere waste of time to write or 
to read books. But these metaphors are necessarily imperfect. 
Jnstead of being considered as the owner of treasures which he 
cannot give or lend, the writer may be compared to a guide who 
leads us to good points of view and so enables us to see much 
that we should not have seen without him. Thoughts that 
never would have arisen from our own reflexion are welcomed 
by us when suggested by another, and becoming naturalized 
among our own thoughts are as much at home in our minds as 

xlviii Introduction. 

the aborigines. This of course is clearly recognized by Locke. 
What is needed is, he says, "a soul devoted to truth, assisted with 
letters and a free consideration of the several views and senti 
ments of thinking men of all sides." (C. of U. iii. p. 9.) He is 
indeed very severe on those who "canton out to themselves a 
little Goschen in the intellectual world" (ib. p. 8), and though he 
would not spend time in collecting the opinions of others about 
matters in which our own reason may guide us, he protests that 
he " does not undervalue the light we receive from others," or 
forget that "there are those who assist us mightily in our 
endeavours after knowledge." (Of Study.) Perhaps the need 
of open-mindedness in the searcher for truth could not be better 
enforced than it has been by Locke in the following, which 
deserves to be a locus classicus on the subject : " We are all 
short-sighted, and very often see but one side of a matter : our 
views are not extended to all that has a connection with it. 
From this defect I think no man is free. We see but in part, 
and we know but in part ; and therefore it is no wonder we 
conclude not right from our partial views. This might instruct 
the proudest esteemer of his own parts how useful it is to talk 
and consult with others, even such as come short of him in 
capacity, quickness and penetration ; for since none sees all, 
and we generally have different prospects of the same thing 
according to our different, I may say, positions to it, it is not 
incongruous to think, nor beneath any man to try, whether 
another may not have notions of things which have escaped 
him, and which his reason would make use of if they came into 
his mind." (C. of U. iii 3 p. 7.) 

As Locke was thus alive to the advantage of taking counsel 
with other people we cannot but feel some surprise that he did 
not make himself acquainted with the best writings then extant 
on education. That his mind was in fact highly receptive is 
proved by many passages in the Thoughts, which were obviously 
suggested by Montaigne. We must remember indeed that the 
Thoughts are after all only the letters to Clarke, which were 
written probably as the first sketch of a work on education, 
and Locke may have intended studying other writers before he 

Critical. xlix 

began the work itself. However this may be, we cannot but 
regret that from his ignorance of Ascham, Mulcaster, Brinsly 
and Hoole among English writers, and among the Continental 
writers of Comenius, who in those days was the great authority 
with educational reformers, many notions of things escaped our 
philosopher which his reason would doubtless have made use of 
had they come into his mind. 

But though Locke seems to have read little or nothing on 
education except what Montaigne says in his Essays, this read 
ing of Montaigne brought him into the succession of thinkers 
who have handed on a torch of truth with a flame of increasing 
brightness. Perhaps no attempt can be more futile than the 
attempt to decide with precision what a grqat thinker owes to 
his predecessors. Where he has grasped a truth he may have 
discovered it for himself even when it was known long before his 
time ; and where he is in error, similar minds by a similar pro 
cess may have come to the same result. Still though hard and 
fast lines are here out of the question, we may get both pleasure 
and profit from tracing the course of great thoughts on such a 
subject as education, and observing how successive thinkers 
develope the truths bequeathed to them, how they find fresh 
applications of them, and adapt them to the wants of their age. 
The succession of thinkers into which, as I said, Locke was 
introduced by Montaigne, is usually given as follows : Rabelais, 
Montaigne, Locke, (Fenelon ?), Rousseau. A very careful study 
of the connexion of these writers has been made by Dr F. A. 
Arnstaedt in his Francois Rabelais und sein Traite d Education 
init besonderer Beriicksichtigting der pddagogischen Grundsatze 
Montaigne s, Locke s und Rousseau s" (Leipzig, 1872). This 
may be referred to by those who are not content with the out 
lines I am about to give. 

The great intellectual revolution which we call the Rena 
scence was a revival of a taste for literary beauty as displayed 
in the classics of Greece and Rome. The result of this revival 
was that all the active minds of Europe devoted themselves to 
the study of the ancient writers, whom they valued more for their 
literary skill than for their knowledge or thought. Rabelais was 

g. d 

1 Introduction. 

a child of the Renascence in his thirst for learning, but he 
valued knowledge rather than literary beauty, and the instruc 
tion he sketched out gave the knowledge of things, both through 
books, that is, verbal realism as the Germans call it, and 
through direct contact with the things themselves, that is, realism 
proper. And he was not only the father of realism ; he was the 
first to denounce the absurdities of the schoolroom, and besides 
this, he made education extend far beyond instruction. 

Montaigne had not the Renascence thirst for learning. He 
by no means bowed down before a learned man or coveted the 
distinction of a learned man for himself. His social rank was 
high, and this distinction was in his eyes, as in the eyes of most 
people, far preferable. And thus it happened that this fine 
writer, with his clearness of thought and expression and his un 
bounded wealth of apt illustrations, set himself against bookish- 
ness, and so became the great spokesman of those who were 
dissatisfied with the school system of the Renascence. 

In the time of the Renascence the admiration for learning 
made men strive for distinction by their knowledge of the 
classics, and caused them to pride themselves on second-hand 
knowledge and to make a display with it. This led to Mon 
taigne s vigorous onslaught on second-hand knowledge. But 
besides this there is another count in his indictment against the 
educational system of the Renascence, and this second count we 
must carefully distinguish from the first. He maintains against 
the schoolmasters that knowledge, whether second-hand or first, 
should not be made the main object in education, but that the 
educator should rather endeavour to train the young up to 
wisdom and virtue. He begins with a quotation from Rabelais : 
" The greatest clerks are not the wisest men." In expanding 
this thought he brings out that those who have read most and 
remember most are not on that account those who know most, 
and further that those who know most are not on that account 
the wisest and best men. 

As I have already said, we cannot determine with any pre 
cision how far Locke s "thoughts" were original with him, 
and how far they were suggested by Montaigne. We must 

Critical. li 

remember that his study of Montaigne (his first study of him 
as far as we can learn) came late. He went to Holland when 
he was fifty-two years old ; and during his stay there we find 
the following entry in his journal : " Feb. 14 [Lord King seems 
to think the year of no consequence] Montaigne by a gentle 
kind of negligence clothed in a peculiar sort of good language, 
persuades without reason : his essays are a texture of strong 
sayings, sentences, and ends of verses, which he so puts 
together that they have an extraordinary force upon men s 
minds. He reasons not, but diverts himself and pleases others; 
full of pride and vanity " (Lord King s Locke, First Edition, 
p. 160). Here we find Locke depreciating Montaigne ("he 
reasons not " was in Locke s mouth the strongest condemnation) 
and struggling against his influence, though half conscious that 
he was struggling in vain. It was not, we may be sure, to 
this study of Montaigne that Locke owed his favourite thoughts 
on education, for as he had been engaged in educating for 
many years, his views must have been pretty well settled, and 
he no doubt brought to the reading of the Essay on Education 
much that he also found there. Still, the chief importance of 
the Thoughts is due to the prominence given by Locke to truths 
which had already been set forth by Montaigne. One of the 
most fervid thinkers of our own day, the late Charles Kingsley, 
writing in his most fervid time, predicted heavy judgments on 
the age if we " persisted much longer in substituting denuncia 
tion for sympathy, instruction for education, and Pharisaism for 
the Good News of the Kingdom of God" (C. Kingsley s Life, 
smaller edition, i. 224). There was nothing fervid about Locke, 
but in his own calm way he pointed out that the best hope of 
correcting the general depravity of those days was to be found 
in educating young gentlemen and not merely instructing them. 
As a recent German translator of the Thoughts, Dr Moritz 
Schuster, has well said, Locke s great merit lay in this : die 
Betonung der Erziehung -vor dent Unterricht, the stress he 
laid on education, his principle Education before Instruction! 
(Translation of Locke in Karl Richter s Piidagogische Bib- 
liothek.} This principle does indeed, as Dr Schuster says, 


lii Introduction. 

raise Locke above his Utilitarianism, and thus it is to him a 
defence which even the keen shafts of Cardinal Newman cannot 
penetrate. (See Idea of a University, by J. H. Newman. Dis 
course vii. 4.) 1 

Montaigne, as we saw, was much influenced by his social 
position. Locke also wrote "as a gentleman for gentlemen." 
" That most to be taken care of," he writes, " is the gentleman s 
calling ; for if those of that rank are by their education once set 
right, they will quickly bring all the rest into order." That a 
human being could need education as a human being, might be 
thought a conception beyond the minds of Locke and his con 
temporaries, and yet Comenius had already said : " I aim at 
securing for all human beings a training in all that is proper to 
their common humanity. Generalem nos intendimus institu- 
tionent omnium gut homines nati sunt, ad omnia humana." 
(Didact. Mag. quoted in Buisson s Dictionnaire, Com.} This 
is a much higher ideal than Locke s. He saw indeed that 
"children should not be suffered to lose the consideration of 
Human Nature in the shufflings of outward conditions" (infra, 
117, p. 103, 1. 10), but he seems, to me at least, not to have 
thought enough of our common human nature in considering 
education. Everything must be settled with an eye to class 
distinctions, "the several degrees of men," as he says; and we 
want "the easiest, shortest, and likeliest way to produce vir 
tuous, useful and able men in their distinct callings." (Epistle 
Dedicatory, infra.) As we saw, he himself thought only of the 
gentleman s calling ; and his reflexions were limited if not dis 
torted by this exclusiveness. 

Some have maintained that the chief merit of the Thoughts 
lay in the prominence given to physical education, which is the 
first point treated of: indeed a recent selection of important 

1 The English editor of Locke, Mr J. A. St John, has well said, " Locke s con 
ception of education differed very materially from that which generally prevails. 
He understood by it rather the training and disciplining of the mind into good habits 
than the mere tradition of knowledge, on which point he agrees entirely with the 
ancients." (Note to C. of U. iii. 3.) Hermann Hettner, in his Literattir-Ges- 
chichte d. -&ten Jahrhtinderts (Part i. p. 157), quotes in proof of this Locke s letter 
to Lord Peterborough, in Lord King s Locke, pp. 4, 5. (See note to 147, infra.) 

Critical. liii 

passages from the great writers on education (E. Sperber s, 
Giitersloh) gives Locke s advice about physical education only. 
His own sufferings from ill-health no doubt made our author so 
urgent on this point. He tells us almost pathetically that if in 
pursuit of knowledge we are negligent of health we are likely to 
" rob God of so much service and our neighbour of all that 
help, which in a state of health, with moderate knowledge, we 
might have been able to perform. He that sinks his vessel by 
overloading it, though it be with gold and silver and precious 
stones, will give his owner but an ill account of his voyage." 
(Of Study.} Locke has no doubt done good service in drawing 
attention to the importance of physical education and by his 
advice about it ; but Rabelais and Montaigne had made as 
much account of the training of the body, and so had some 
English writers, Sir Thomas Elyot in his Governor, and, still 
more remarkably, Richard Mulcaster in his Positions. 

The bodily health being cared for, we come to the gentle 
man s essential requirements in mind and manners, and Locke 
gives them in the following order as the order of their import 
ance : I, Virtue ; 2, Wisdom ; 3, Breeding ; 4, Learning (infra, 
134, p. 115). His object in writing is to show how these may 
be secured. 

A writer much venerated by our philosopher looks to the 
emotional side of our nature to supply the best moral restraints. 
" Love worketh no ill to his neighbour : therefore love is the 
fulfilling of the law." (Rom. xiii. 10.) But in Locke the emo 
tions were encroached upon by the intellect ; and he would 
train the gentleman to consider always what is reasonable and 
to submit to reason s dictates. As a preparation for this obe 
dience to their own judgment when ripe the young should be 
trained to act in accordance with the judgments of the reason 
able people who bring them up. As soon as possible children 
are to be dealt with as reasonable creatures ; but when they are 
too young for this they are to be worked upon by awe of the 
parental authority and by love of reputation. 

There are two truths about education which Locke applies 
to everything with an almost tiresome iteration : 

liv Introduction. 

1. The secret of instruction in all arts, and indeed in con 
duct too, is to get what we would teach settled in the pupil by 
practice till it becomes a habit. The child s actions and the 
child s learning are to be thought of as tending to habits. 
" That which I cannot ,too often inculcate is that whatever the 
matter be about which it is conversant whether great or small, 
the main (I had almost said only) thing to be considered in 
every action of a child is what influence it will have upon his 
mind; what habit it tends to and is likely to settle in him; how 
it will become him when he is bigger; and if it be encouraged, 
whither it will lead him when he is grown up." (Infra 107, 
p. 86, 1. 1 6.) 

2. The grand influence of all is the influence of companions. 
" Having named company I am almost ready to throw away my 
pen, and trouble you no further on this subject ; for since that 
does more than all precepts, rules and instructions, methinks tis 
almost wholly in vain to make a long discourse of other things 
and to talk of that almost to no purpose." ( 70, p. 45, 1. 32.) 

1. The immense effect of practice both in moral and intel 
lectual education has been dwelt upon by the greatest writers 
on education in our own century, Pestalozzi and Froebel. We 
have some touching instances of the way in which Pestalozzi 
taught even poor children to practise self-denial to relieve the 
distress of others. 

2. Locke seems in constant difficulties about company. 
The young gentleman may not be sent to school because 
his bringing up requires a much more complete superintend 
ence than a school-master can give, and also because he must 
not be exposed to the "prevailing infection" of school-fellows. 
But Locke sees clearly that children brought up at home must 
be left a good deal in the charge of servants, and of servants he 
has no higher opinion than of school-boys. Again and again 
he refers to this difficulty and shows an uncomfortable con 
sciousness that here is a rock on which the good ship will 
probably go to pieces. For the only hope of safety he looks to 
the father aided by the tutor. But few fathers can and still 
fewer will give the amount of time and attention to their son s 

Critical. lv 

bringing up which Locke s scheme requires from them. As for 
the tutor, such a tutor as Locke describes is as Hallam calls 
him a "phcenix," or indeed a still rarer bird, as we could not 
expect to see one every hundred years. He is to be a professor 
of the whole art of living, and must teach the young man how to 
behave when he goes into the world as the dancing-master 
must teach him how to "make a leg" when he goes into the 
drawing-room. Locke thinks of virtue, wisdom and breeding, 
as things inculcated and worked into the youth. But thinkers 
such as Pestalozzi and Froebel since Locke s time, and indeed 
Comenius before his time, have held that the seeds of virtue and 
wisdom are implanted in us by Nature, and that these must be 
developed under the "benevolent superintendence" of parents 
and educators. If we take up this standpoint there seems far 
too much artifice in many of Locke s proposals. They even 
at times verge on "white lies" or "pious frauds," as did those 
of Rousseau, who in this was probably Locke s disciple. 

Learning, which school-masters are apt to make the chief 
thing in education or even to take for education itself, Locke 
considers as the least important of his requisites; and we have 
seen that in this lies the main excellence of his book. When we 
come to his suggestions about learning we find them in one 
respect very disappointing. . About other matters he lays down 
the rule that in every action of the child we are to consider 
mainly, if not exclusively, what influence the action will have 
on the child s mind and what habit it will strengthen. But when 
he comes to learning Locke in spite of his own rule discusses 
not the effect of this or that study on the mind, but whether or 
no the knowledge or skill will be useful to a gentleman. It 
seems strange that the philosopher who had made a study of 
the human understanding did not bring this study to bear 
more directly on instruction, and show us how different intel 
lectual exercises affect the mind. But except in the case of 
geometry he has passed over this consideration altogether, and 
seems rather to consider how the young gentleman may acquire 
most easily the knowledge that will be "useful" to him than how 
he may get the best intellectual training. But it seems to me 

Ivi Introduction. 

that in this last and least important part Locke has expressed 
himself carelessly and done himself some injustice ; and I can by 
no means agree with Cardinal Newman in the following: "No 
thing of course can be more absurd than to neglect in education 
those matters which are necessary for a boy s future calling; 
but the tone of Locke s remarks evidently implies more than this, 
and is condemnatory of any teaching which tends to the general 
cultivation of the mind." (Idea of a University, vii. p. 160.) A 
more impartial critic would, I think, find the tone of Locke not in 
the passages which Newman quotes, but in such passages as the 
following: "To this perhaps it will be objected that to manage 
the understanding as I propose would require every man to be a 
scholar and to be furnished with all the materials of knowledge, 
and exercised in all ways of reasoning. To which I answer that 
it is a shame for those that have time and the means to attain 
knowledge to want any help or assistance for the improvement of 
their understandings that can be got; and to such I would be 
thought here chiefly to speak" (C. of U. 7). From this it would 
seem that Locke, far from condemning any teaching which tends 
to the general cultivation of the mind, looks upon the acquire 
ment of knowledge mainly as a means of "improving the under 
standing." Again, after pointing out certain intellectual infirmi 
ties and what comes of them, he says : "These are the common 
and most general miscarriages which I think men should avoid or 
rectify in the right conduct of their understandings, and should 
be particularly taken care of in education; the business whereof 
in respect of knowledge is not as I think to perfect the learner 
in all or any one of the sciences, but to give his mind that 
freedom, that disposition, and those habits that may enable 
, him to attain any part of knowledge he shall apply himself to, 
or stand in need of, in the future course of his life" (C. of U. 
12: see too Note "Magisterially dictating" p. 224 infra,} 
These passages are indeed not in the Thoughts concerning 
Education; but even from that work alone my conception of 
Locke s tone is very different from Cardinal Newman s. This is 
Locke s account of the educator s task : "Due care being had to 
keep the body in strength and vigour, so that it may be able to 

Critical. Ivii 

obey and execute the orders of the mind, the next and principal 
business is to set the mind right" (infra 31, p. 20). It is 
true he is thinking here rather of the moral than of the intellec 
tual side of the mind, as he is also in the following passage : 
"He that at any rate procures his child a good mind, well- 
principled, tempered to virtue and usefulness and adorned with 
civility and good breeding, makes a better purchase for him 
than if he laid out money for an addition of more earth to his 
former acres" ( 90, p. 67, 1. 10). Had Newman charged 
Locke with thinking too exclusively of the character and not 
enough of the intellect he could not be so easily answered from 
the Thoughts on Education; but this would be a singular 
charge to bring against the author of the Conduct of the Human 
Understanding. When Locke says that what the youth is to 
receive from education is "habits woven into the very principles 
of his nature" ( 42, p. 28) he must be understood to include 
intellectual habits as well as moral (see p. 75, 1. 40, infra). And 
so far as I can form a notion of Locke s tone from a careful 
study of the whole book I must decide that I know no writer on 
education less open to the charge of indifference to the cultiva 
tion of the mind. 

I have said that Rabelais gave the first impulse to realism, i.e. 
the study of things, both verbal realism and realism proper. 
Locke does indeed commend " real " knowledge, using the word 
" real" in this meaning which we have now lost. He sees that 
the " knowledge of things that fall under the senses " (p. 40, 1. 8) 
is suitable for children. But in this matter he is far less distinct 
than Comenius ; and if he had written on instruction only, his 
book would deserve the epithets " mediocre et judicieux" (the 
first at all events) which Michelet has bestowed upon it. (Nos 

Those who wish thoroughly to understand Locke s Thoughts 
concerning Education should study not only the book so called, 
but also the more carefully written Essay on the Conduct of 
the Human Understanding. (See Note on next page.) 

Iviii Introduction. 


Henry Hallam, a great admirer of Locke s, speaks of the Conduct 
of the Understanding as a treatise "on the moral discipline of the in 
tellect," and he "cannot think any parent or instructor justified in 
neglecting to put this little treatise in the hands of a boy about the 
time when the reasoning faculties become developed" (Lit. of R. Pt. 
IV. c. iii., 122, 124). He also commends the Thoughts on Education, 
but in a safe and seesaw fashion which is, to me at least, intensely 
irritating. Here is a specimen (I am responsible for the type): " Locke 
many years afterwards [i.e. after the appearance of Milton s Tractate] 
turned his thoughts to education with all the advantages that a strong 
understanding and entire disinterestedness could give him ; but, as ~we 
should imagine, with some necessary deficiencies of experience, though we 
hardly perceive MUCH of them in his writings. He looked on the 
methods usual in his age with severity, or some would say with preju 
dice; yet I know not by what proof we can refute his testimony. 1 We 
are further informed that Locke "has uttered, to say the least, more 
good sense on the subject than will be found in any preceding writer." 
This sentence is not quite so safe. If valuable truth is "good sense," 
more will be found in the Didactica Magna of Comenius than in the 
Thoughts concerning Education. Hallam in this part of his work does 
not seem fortunate when he leaves an assertion untrimmed. " Much," 
he tells us, "has been written, and often well, since the days of Locke; 
but he is the chief source from which it has been ultimately derived." 
This statement cannot indeed well be refuted, but neither can it be 
proved, and it seems to me very questionable. But Hallam is soon on 
safe ground again. He continues: "and though the Emile is more 
attractive in manner, it may be doubtful whether it is as rational and 
practicable as the Treatise on Education." This is very cautiously put 
indeed. We should hardly shew more caution if we said : " Though the 
writings of M. Jules Verne are more attractive, especially to the young, 
it may be doubtful whether they are as rational and practicable as some 
of the articles in the Revue des Deux blondes" 

I said that Hallam s assertion which would give Locke the credit of 
being the chief source from which later writers have "ultimately" 
drawn, could not well be refuted. But anyone who will be at the pains 
to study the subject, especially under the guidance of Dr Arnstaedt, will 
I think agree that the word " ultimately " is somewhat out of place 
here. Arnstaedt shows the following points of agreement in Rabelais, 
Montaigne, Locke, and Rousseau, i. Care for a single child only, 
and by consequence neglect of the education of the people, i. The 
degrading of learning from the first place and placing the main stress on 
virtue and the formation of character. 3. Importance of physical edu 
cation. 4. The condemnation of the harshness commonly shown to the 
young, and the demand that they should be made happy even in work. 



5. Condemnation of large schools. 6. The employment of a governor 
who is to he wise rather than learned. 7. Condemnation of instruction 
which inculcates not how to think but what to think, or simply what to 
remember. 8. Teaching at first hand, i. e. by the senses or by direct 
experience. 9. Travel as a part of education. To these might pro 
bably be added several more points of agreement, e.g. the employment 
of games for educational purposes, and the training in some handi 

For the use of those who wish to compare Locke with Montaigne I 
copy from Arnstaedt the following list of parallel passages which have 
been observed by Coste, who translated Locke into French, became 
Frank Masham s tutor at Gates while Locke was living there, and 
afterwards published an annotated edition of Montaigne. 


. 7, Montaigne Bk. 

i. ch. 






25: L. 









2 5 

























25 : 




















25 = 




















9 : 













































THESE Thoughts concerning Education, which now 
come abroad into the World, do of Right belong to 
You, being written several Years since for Your Sake, and 
are no other than what You have already by You in my 
Letters. I have so little vary d any Thing, but only the 
Order of what was sent you at different Times, and on several 
Occasions, that the Reader will easily find, in the Familiarity 
and Fashion of the Stile, that they were rather the private 
Conversation of tu<o Friends, than a Discourse designed for 
publick View. 

The Importunity of Friends is the common Apology for 
Publications Men are afraid to own themselves forward to. 
But you know I can truly say, that if some, who having 
heard of these Papers of mine, had not pressed to see them, 
and afterwards to have them printed, they had lain dormant 
still in that Privacy they were designed for. But those, whose 
Judgment I defer much to, telling me, that they were per- 

Ixii The Epistle Dedicatory. 

suaded, that this rough Draught of mine might be of some 
Use, if made more publick, touch d upon what will always be 
very prevalent with me : For I think it every Man s indis- 
pensible Duty, to do all the Service he can to his Country ; 
and I see not what Difference he puts between himself and 
his Cattle, who lives without that Thought. This Subject 
is of so great Concernment, and a right Way of Education 
is of so general Advantage, that did I find my Abilities answer 
my Wishes, I should not have needed Exhortations or Impor 
tunities from others. Hoiuever, the Meanness of these Papers, 
and my just Distrust of them, shall not keep me, by the Shame 
of doing so little, from contributing my Mite, when there is 
no more required of me than my throwing it into the publick 
Receptacle. And if there be any more of their Size and 
Notions, who UK d them so well, that they thought them worth 
printing, 1 may flatter myself they will not be lost Labour to 
every Body. 

I myself have been consulted of late by so many, who pro 
fess themselves at a loss how to breed their Children, and the 
early Corruption of Youth is now become so general a Com 
plaint, that he cannot be thought wholly impertinent, who 
brings the Consideration of this Matter on the Stage, and 
offers something, if it be but to excite others, or afford Matter 
of Correction : For Errors in Education should be less in- 
dulg d than any. . These, like Faults in the first Concoction, 
that are never mended in the second or third, carry their 
afterwards incorrigible Taint with them thro 1 all the Parts 
and Stations of Life. 

I am so far from being conceited of any Thing I have 
here offered, that I should not be sorry, even for your sake, 
if some one abler and fitter for such a Task would in a just 

The Epistle Dedicatory. Ixiii 

Treatise of Education, suited to our English Gentry, rectify 
the Mistakes I have made in this; it being much more desirable 
to me, that young Gentlemen should be put into (that which 
every one ought to be solicitous about) the best Way of being 
formed and instructed, than that my Opinion should be 
received concerning it. You will, however, in the mean Time 
bear me Witness, that the Method here proposed has had no 
ordinary Effects upon a Gentleman s Son it was not designed 
for. I will not say the good Temper of the Child did not 
very much contribute to it ; but this I think You and the 
Parents are satisfy d of, that a contrary Usage, according to 
the ordinary disciplining of Children, would not have mended 
that Temper, nor have brought him to be in love with his 
Book, to take a Pleasure in Learning, and to desire, as he 
does, to be taught more than those about him think fit always 
to teach him. 

But my Business is not to recommend this Treatise to 
You, whose Opinion of it I know already ; nor it to the 
World, either by your Opinion or Patronage. The well 
Educating of their Children is so much the Duty and Concern 
of Parents, and the Welfare and Prosperity of the Nation so 
much depends on it, that I would have every one lay it seriously 
to Heart ; and after having well examined and distinguished 
what^ Fancy, Custom, or Reason advises in the Case, set his 
helping Hand to promote every where that Way of training 
up Youth, with Regard to their several Conditions, which is 
the easiest, shortest, and likeliest to produce virtuous, useful, 
and able Men tn their distinct Callings ; thd that most to be 
taken Care of is the Gentleman s Calling. For if those of 
thaC Rank are by their Education once set right, they will 
quickly bring all the rest into Order. 

Ixiv The Epistle Dedicatory. 

/ know not whether I have done more than shewn my 
good Wishes towards it in this short Discourse ; such as it is, 
tlie World now has if, and if there be any Thing in it worth 
their Acceptance, they owe their Thanks to you for it. My 
Affection to You gave the first Rise to it, and I am pleas d, 
that I can leave to Posterity this Mark of the Friendship that 
has been between us. For I know no greater Pleasure in this 
Life, nor a better Remembrance to be left behind one, than a 
long continued Friendship with an honest, useful, and worthy 
Man, and Lover of his Country. I am, 

Your most humble 

and most faithful Servant, 


March 7, 

1692. [i. e. i69Jj] 



I- :B^ ^^"si Sound Mind in a sound Body, is a short, 
but full Description of a happy State in 
this World. He that has these two, has 
J ftlc more to wish for; and he that wants 
either of them, will be but little the better for 5 
any thing else. Men s Happiness or Misery is most part of 
their own making. He, whose Mind directs not wisely, will 
never take the right Way; and he, whose Body is crazy and 
feeble, will never be able to advance in it. I confess, there 
are some Men s Constitutions of Body and Mind so vigorous, jo 
and well fram d by Nature, that they need not much Assist 
ance from others ; but by the strength of their natural 
Genius, they are from their Cradles carried towards what is 
excellent ; and by the Privilege of their happy Constitutions, 
are able to do Wonders. But Examples of this Kind are 15 
but few ; and I think I may say, that of all the Men we meet 
with, nine Parts of ten are what they are, good or evil, 
useful or not, by their Education. Tis that which makes 
the great Difference in Mankind. The little, or almost 
insensible Impressions on our tender Infancies, have very 20 
important and lasting Consequences : And there tis, as in 
the Fountains of some Rivers, where a gentle Application of 
the Hand turns the flexible Waters in Channels, that make 
them take quite contrary Courses ; and by this Direction 

2 Hardening the body. [ i 5 

given them at first in the Source, they receive different 
Tendencies, and arrive at last at very remote and distant 

2. I imagine the Minds of Children as easily turn d 

5 this or that Way, as Water it self: And though this be the 

principal Part, and our main Care should be about the 

Inside, yet the Clay-Cottage is not to be neglected. I shall 

therefore begin with the Case, and consider first the Health 

of the Body, as that which perhaps you may 

10 rather expect from that Study I have been 

thought more peculiarly to have apply d my self to; and 

that also which will be soonest dispatch d, as lying, if I 

guess not amiss, in a very little Compass. 

3. How necessary Health is to our Business and 

15 Happiness; and how requisite a strong Constitution, able 

to endure Hardships and Fatigue, is to one that will make 

any Figure in the World, is too obvious to need any 


4. The Consideration I shall here have of Health, shall 

20 be, not what a Physician ought to do with a sick and crazy 

Child ; but what the Parents, without LUC Help of Physick, 

should do for the Preservation and Improvement of an 

healtliy, or at least not sickly Constitution in their Children. 

And this perhaps might be all dispatch d in this one short 

25 Rule, viz. That Gentlemen should use their Children, as 

the honest Farmers and substantial Yeomen do theirs. But 

because the Mothers possibly may think this a little too 

hard, and the Fathers too short, I shall explain my self more 

particularly; only laying down this as a general and certain 

30 Observation for the Women to consider, viz. That most 

Children s Constitutions are either spoil d, or 

at least harm d, by Cockering and Tenderness. 

5- -The first Thing to be taken care of, is, that Chil- 

dren be not too warmly clad or covered, Winter 

35 or Summer. The Face when we are born, is 

no less tender than any other Part of the Body. Tis Use 

alone hardens it, and makes it more able to endure the 

Cold. And therefore the Scythian Philosopher gave a very 

significant Answer to the Athenian, who wonder d how he 

40 could go naked in Frost and Snow. How, said the 

Scythian, can you endure your Face exposed to the sharp 

5 6] Not too warm clothing. 3 

Winter Air? My face is us d to it, said the Athenian. 
Think me all face, reply d the Scythian. Our Bodies will 
endure any Thing, that from the Beginning they are accus- 
tom d to. 

An eminent Instance of this, though in the contrary 5 
Excess of Heat, being to our present Purpose, to shew 
what Use can do, I shall set down in the Author s Words, 
as I meet with it in a late ingenious Voyage. ^ Nour , eau 
t"The Heats, says he, are more violent in Voyage du 
1 Malta, than in any Part of Europe: They L 10 

exceed those of Rome itself, and are perfectly stifling ; 
and so much the more, because there are seldom any 
cooling Breezes here. This makes the common People 
as black as Gypsies : But yet the Peasants defy the Sun ; 
they work on in the hottest Part of the Day, without 15 
Intermission, or sheltering themselves from his scorching 
Rays. This has convinc d me, that Nature can bring 
itself to many Things, which seem impossible, provided 
we accustom ourselves from our Infancy. The Malteses 
do so, who harden the Bodies of their Children, and 20 
reconcile them to the Heat, by making them go stark 
naked, without Shirt, Drawers, or any Thing on their 
Heads, from their Cradles till they are ten Years old." 

Give me leave therefore to advise you not to fence 
too carefully against the Cold of this our Climate. There 25 
are those in England, who wear the same Clothes Winter 
and Summer, and that without any Inconvenience, or more 
Sense of Cold than others find. But if the Mother will 
needs have an Allowance for Frost and Snow, for fear of 
Harm, and the Father, for fear of Censure, be sure let 30 
not his Winter-Clothing be too warm : And amongst 
other Things, remember, that when Nature has so well 
covered his Head with Hair, and strengthen d it with a 
Year or two s Age, that he can run about by Day without a 
Cap, it is best that by Night a Child should also lie without 35 
one ; there being nothing that more exposes to Headachs, 
Colds, Catarrhs, Coughs, and several other Diseases, than 
keeping the Head warm. 

6. I have said He here, because the principal Aim 
of my Discourse is, how a young Gentleman should be 40 
brought up from his Infancy, which in all Things will not 

i 2 

4 Wet feet. [ 6, 7 

so perfectly suit the Education of Daughters ; though where 
the Difference of Sex requires different Treatment, twill be 
no hard Matter to distinguish. 

7. I will also advise his Feet to be wasKd every Day 

5 in cold Water, and to have his Shoes so thin, 

that they might leak and let in Water, whenever 

he comes near it. Here, I fear, I shall have the Mistress 

and Maids too against me. One will think it too filthy, 

and the other perhaps too much Pains, to make clean his 

10 Stockings. But yet Truth will have it, that his Health is 
much more worth than all such Considerations, and ten 
times as much more. And he that considers how mis 
chievous and mortal a Thing taking Wet in the Feet is, to 
those who have been bred nicely, will wish he had, with the 

15 poor People s Children, gone bare-foot, who, by that Means, 
come to be so reconcil d by Custom to Wet in their Feet, 
that they take no more Cold or Harm by it, than if they 
were wet in their Hands. And what is it, I pray, that 
makes this great Difference between the Hands and the 

20 Feet in others, but only Custom ? I doubt not, but if a 
Man from his Cradle had been always us d to go bare-foot, 
whilst his Hands were constantly wrapt up in warm Mittins, 
and cover d with Hand-shoes, as the Dutch call Gloves ; I 
doubt not, I say, but such a Custom would make taking 

25 Wet in his Hands as dangerous to him, as now taking Wet 
in their Feet is to a great many others. The Way to 
prevent this, is, to have his Shoes made so as to leak Water, 
and his Feet wash d constantly every Day in cold Water. 
It is recommendable for its Cleanliness ; but that which I 

30 aim at in it, is Health; and therefore I limit it not precisely 
to any Time of the Day. I have known it us d every 
Night with very good Success, and that all the Winter, 
without the omitting it so much as one Night in extreme cold 
Weather; when thick Ice cover d the Water, the Child 

35 bathed his Legs and Feet in it, though he was of an Age 
not big enough to rub and wipe them himself, and when he 
began this Custom was puling and very tender. But the 
great End being to harden those Parts by a frequent and 
familiar Use of cold Water, and thereby to prevent the 

40 Mischiefs that usually attend accidental taking Wet in the 
Feet in those who are bred otherwise, I think it may be 

;] Cold water. 5 

left to the Prudence and Convenience of the Parents, to 
chuse either Night or Morning. The Time I deem indiffer 
ent, so the Thing be effectually done. The Health and 
Hardiness procured by it, would be a good Purchase at a 
much dearer rate. To which if I add the preventing of 5 
Corns, that to some Men would be a very valuable Con 
sideration. But begin first in the Spring with luke-warm, 
and so colder and colder every time, till in a few Days 
you come to perfectly cold Water, and then continue it so 
Winter and Summer. For it is to be observed in this, 10 
as in all other Alterations from our ordinary 

ITT i- T ,1 y-ii ,1 11 Alterations. 

Way of Living, the Changes must be made by 

gentle and insensible Degrees ; and so we may bring our 

Bodies to any thing, without Pain, and without Danger. 

How fond Mothers are like to receive this Doctrine, is not 15 
hard to foresee. What can it be less, than to murder their 
tender Babes, to use them thus ? What ! put their Feet in 
cold Water in Frost and Snow, when all one can do is 
little enough to keep them warm? A little to remove 
their Fears by Examples, without which the plainest Reason 20 
is seldom hearken d to: Seneca tells us of himself, Ep. 53, 
and 83, that he used to bathe himself in cold Spring- Water 
in the midst of Winter. This, if he had not thought it not 
only tolerable, but healthy too, he would scarce have done, 
in an exorbitant Fortune, that could well have borne the 25 
Expence of a warm Bath, and in an Age (lor he was then 
old) that would have excused greater Indulgence. If we 
think his Stoical Principles led him to this Severity, let it 
be so, that this Sect reconciled cold Water to his Sufferance. 
What made it agreeable to his Health ? For that was not 30 
impair d by this hard Usage. But what shall we say to 
Horace, who warm d not himself with the Reputation of 
any Sect, and least of all affected Stoical Austerities ? yet 
he assures us, he was wont in the Winter Season to bathe 
himself in cold Water. But, perhaps, Italy will be thought 35 
much warmer than England, and the Chillness of their 
Waters not to come near ours in Winter. If the Rivers of 
Italy are warmer, those of Germany and Poland are much 
colder, than any in this our Country, and yet in these, the 
yews, both Men and Women, bathe all over, at all Seasons 40 
of the Year, without any Prejudice to their Health. And 

6 Swimming. Open air. [ 7 9 

every one is not apt to believe it is Miracle, or any 
peculiar Virtue of St Winifred s Well, that makes the cold 
Waters of that famous Spring do no Harm to the tender 
Bodies that bathe in it. Every one is now full of the 
5 Miracles done by cold Baths on decay d and weak Con 
stitutions, for the Recovery of Health and Strength ; and 
therefore they cannot be impracticable or intolerable for 
the improving and hardening the Bodies of those who are in 
better Circumstances. 

10 If these Examples of grown Men be not thought yet to 
reach the Case of Children, but that they may be judg d 
still to be too tender, and unable to bear such Usage, let 
them examine what the Germans of old, and the Irish now, 
do to them, and they will find, that Infants too, as tender as 

15 they are thought, may, without any Danger, endure Bathing, 
not only of their Feet, but of their whole Bodies, in cold 
Water. And there are, at this Day, Ladies in the High 
lands of Scotland who use this Discipline to their Children 
in the midst of Winter, and find that cold Water does them 

20 no Harm, even when there is Ice in it. 

8. I shall not need here to mention Swimming, when 
. . he is of an Age able to learn, and has any one 

Swimming. . . (l . J 

to teach him. lis that saves many a Mans 
Life; and the Romans thought it so necessary, that they 

25 rank d it with Letters; and it was the common Phrase to 
mark one ill-educated, and good for nothing, That he had 
neither learnt to read nor to swim: Nee literas didicit nee 
natare. But, besides the gaining a Skill which may serve 
him at need, the Advantages to Health by often bathing in 

30 cold Water during the Heat of Summer, are so many, that 
I think nothing need be said to encourage it; provided this 
one Caution be us d, That he never go into the Water when 
Exercise has at all warm d him, or left any Emotion in his 
Blood or Pulse. 

35 9. Another thing that is of great Advantage to every 
one s Health, but especially Children s, is to be much in the 
open Air, and as little as may be by the Fire, 
even in Winter. By this he will accustom him 
self also to Heat and Cold, Shine and Rain; all which if a 

40 Man s Body will not endure, it will serve him to very little 
Purpose in this World; and when he is grown up, it is too 

9, io] Caution established by habit. 7 

late to begin to use him to it. It must be got early, and by 
Degrees. Thus the Body may be brought to bear almost 
any thing. If I should advise him to play in the Wind and 
Sun without a Hat, I doubt whether it could be borne. 
There would a Thousand Objections be made against it, 5 
which at last would amount to no more, in truth, than being 
Sun-burnt. And if my young Master be to be kept always 
in the Shade, and never expos d to the Sun and Wind for 
fear of his Complexion, it may be a good way to make him 
a Beau, but not a Man of Business. And altho greater io 
Regard be to be had to Beauty in the Daughters; yet I will 
take the Liberty to say, that the more they are in the Air, 
without prejudice to their Faces, the stronger and healthier 
they will be ; and the nearer they come to the Hardships of 
their Brothers in their Education, the greater Advantage 15 
will they receive from it all the remaining Part of their 

io. Playing in the open Air has but this one Danger 
in it, that I know; and that is, that when he is hot with 
running up and down, he should sit or lie down on the 20 
cold or moist Earth. This I grant ; and drinking cold 
Drink, when they are hot with Labour or Exercise, brings 
more People to the Grave, or to the Brink of it, by Fevers, 
and other Diseases, than anything I know. These Mis 
chiefs are easily enough prevented whilst he is little, being 25 
then seldom out of Sight. And if, during his Childhood, he 
be constantly and rigorously kept from sitting on the 
Ground, or drinking any cold Liquor whilst he is hot, the 
Custom of forbearing, grown into Habit, will Ha },i ts 
help much to preserve him, when he is no longer 30 

under his Maid s or Tutor s Eye. This is all I think can be 
done in the Case: For, as Years increase, Liberty must 
come with them; and in a great many things he must be 
trusted to his own Conduct, since there cannot always be 
a Guard upon him, except what you have put into his own 35 
Mind by good Principles, and establish d Habits, which is 
the best and surest, and therefore most to be taken care of. 
For, from repeated Cautions and Rules, never so often 
inculcated, you are not to expect any thing either in this, or 
any other Case, farther than Practice has establish d them 40 
into Habits. 

8 Against tight lacing. [ u, 12 

n. One thing the mention of the Girls brings into 

my Mind, which must not be forgot; and that is, that your 

Son s Clothes be never made strait, especially 

Clothes. , , J 

about the Breast. Let nature have Scope to 
5 fashion the Body as she thinks best. She works of herself 
a great deal better and exacter than we can direct her. 
And if Women were themselves to frame the Bodies of their 
Children in their Wombs, as they often endeavour to mend 
their Shapes when they are out, we should as certainly 

10 have no perfect Children born, as we have few well-shap d 
that are strait-lac s, or much tamper d with. This Consider 
ation should, methinks, keep busy People (I will not say 
ignorant Nurses and Bodice-makers) from meddling in a 
Matter they understand not; and they should be afraid to 

15 put Nature out of her Way in fashioning the Parts, when 
they know not how the least and meanest is made. And 
yet I have seen so many Instances of Children receiving 
great Harm from Strait-lacing, that I cannot but conclude 
there are other Creatures as well as Monkeys, who, little 

20 wiser than they, destroy their young ones by senseless Fond 
ness, and too much embracing. 

12. Narrow Breasts, short and stinking Breath, ill 
Lungs, and Crookedness, are the natural and almost con 
stant Effects of hard Bodice, and Clothes that finch. That 

25 way of making slender Wastes, and fine Shapes, serves but 
the more effectually to spoil them. Nor can there indeed 
but be Disproportion in the Parts, when the Nourishment 
prepared in the several Offices of the Body cannot be dis 
tributed as Nature designs. And therefore what wonder is 

30 it, if, it being laid where it can, on some Part not so braced, 
it often makes a Shoulder or Hip higher or bigger than its 
just Proportion? Tis generally known, that the Women of 
China, (imagining I know not what kind of Beauty in it) by 
bracing and binding them hard from their Infancy, have 

35 ver y little Feet. I saw lately a Pair of China Shoes, which 
I was told were for a grown Woman : They were so exceed 
ingly disproportion d to the Feet of one of the same Age 
among us, that they would scarce have been big enough for 
one of our little Girls. Besides this, tis observ d, that their 

40 Women are also very little, and short-liv d; whereas the 
Men are of the ordinary Stature of other Men, and live to a 

1214] Diet. 9 

proportionable Age. These Defects in the Female Sex in 
that Country, are by some imputed to the unreasonable 
Binding of their Feet, whereby the free Circulation of the 
Blood is hinder d, and the Growth and Health of the whole 
Body suffers. And how often do we see, that some small 5 
Part of the Foot being injur d by a Wrench or a Blow, the 
whole Leg or Thigh thereby lose their Strength and Nourish 
ment, and dwindle away? How much greater Inconveni 
ences may we expect, when the Thorax, wherein is placed 
the Heart and Seat of Life, is unnaturally compress d, and 10 
hinder d from its due Expansion? 

13. As for his Diet, it ought to be very plain and 
simple; and, if I might advise, Flesh should be 
forborne as long as he is in Coats, or at least till 
he is two or three Years old. But whatever Advantage this 1 5 
may be to his present and future Health and Strength, I 
fear it will hardly be consented to by Parents, misled by the 
Custom of eating too much Flesh themselves, who will be 
apt to think their Children, as they do themselves, in 
Danger to be starv d, if they have not Flesh at least twice a- 20 
day. This I am sure, Children would breed their Teeth 
with much less Danger, be freer from Diseases whilst they 
were little, and lay the Foundations of an healthy and strong 
Constitution much surer, if they were not cramm d so much 
as they are by fond Mothers and foolish Servants, and were 25 
kept wholly from Flesh the first three or four Years of their 

But if my young Master must needs have Flesh, let it be 
but once a Day, and of one Sort at a Meal. Plain Beef, 
Mutton, Veal, &c. without other Sauce than Hunger, is 30 
best; and great care should be used, that he eat Bread 
plentifully, both alone and with every thing else; and what 
ever he eats that is solid, make him chew it well. We 
English are often negligent herein; from whence follow 
Indigestion, and other great Inconveniences. 35 

14. For Breakfast and Supper, Milk, Milk- Pottage, 
Water-Gruel, Flummery, and twenty other things, that we 
are wont to make in England, are very fit for Children; only, 
in all these, let care be taken that they be plain, and without 
much Mixture, and very sparingly season d with Sugar, or 4 
rather none at all; especially all Spice, and other things that 

io Meals. [ 14 

may heat the Blood, are carefully to be avoided. Be 
sparing also of Salt in the seasoning of all his Victuals, and 
use hirii not to high-season d Meats. Our Palates grow into 
a relish and liking of the Seasoning and Cookery which by 
5 Custom they are set to; and an over-much Use of Salt, 
besides that it occasions Thirst, and over-much Drinking, 
has other ill Effects upon the Body. I should think that a 
good Piece of well-made and well-bak d brown Bread, some 
times with, and sometimes without Butter or Cheese, would 

io be often the best Breakfast for my young Master. I am 
sure tis as wholesome, and will make him as strong a Man 
as greater Delicacies; and if he be used to it, it will be as 
pleasant to him. If he at any Time calls for Victuals be 
tween Meals, use him to nothing but dry Bread. If he be 

15 hungry more than wanton, Bread alone will down; and if 
he be not hungry, tis not fit he should eat. By this you 
will obtain two good Effects : i. That by Custom he 
will come to be in love with Bread; for, as I said, our 
Palates and Stomachs too are pleased with the things we 

20 are used to. 2. Another Good you will gain hereby is, That 
you will not teach him to eat more nor oftener than Nature 
requires. I do not think that all People s Appetites are 
alike ; some have naturally stronger, and some weaker 
Stomachs. But this I think, that many are made Gormands 

25 and Gluttons by Custom, that were not so by Nature: And 
I see in some Countries, Men as lusty and strong, that eat 
but two Meals a-day, as others that have set their Stomachs 
by a constant Usage, like Larums, to call on them for four 
or five. The Romans usually fasted till Supper, the only 

30 set Meal even of those who eat more than once a-day; and 
those who us d Breakfasts, as some did, at eight, some at 
ten, others at twelve of the Clock, and some later, neither 
eat Flesh, nor had any thing made ready for them. Au 
gustus, when the greatest Monarch on the Earth, tells us, he 

35 took a Bit of dry Bread in his Chariot. And Seneca, in his 
83rd Epistle, giving an Account how he managed himself, 
even when he was old, and his Age permitted Indulgence, 
says, That he used to eat a Piece of dry Bread for his 
Dinner, without the Formality of sitting to it, tho his Estate 

40 would as well have paid for a better Meal (had Health 
requir d it) as any Subject s in England, were it doubled. 

i4> J 5] Meals. n 

The Masters of the World were bred up with this spare 
Diet; and the young Gentlemen of Rome felt no want of 
Strength or Spirit, because they eat but once a Day. Or if 
it happened by Chance, that any one could not fast so long 
as till Supper, their only set Meal, he took nothing but a 5 
Bit of dry Bread, or at most a few Raisins, or some such 
slight Thing with it, to stay his Stomach. This Part of 
Temperance was found so necessary both for Health and 
Business, that the Custom of only one Meal a day held out 
against that prevailing Luxury which their Eastern Con- 10 
quests and Spoils had brought in amongst them; and those 
who had given up their old frugal Eating, and made Feasts, 
yet began them not till the Evening. And more than one 
set Meal a-day was thought so monstrous, that it was a 
Reproach as low down as Cesar s Time, to make an Enter- 15 
tainment, or sit down to a full Table, till towards Sun-set; 
and therefore, if it would not be thought too severe, I should 
judge it most convenient that my young Master should 
have nothing but Bread too for Breakfast. You cannot 
imagine of what Force Custom is; and I impute a great 20 
Part of our Diseases in England, to our eating too much 
Flesh, and too little Bread. 

15. As to his Meals, I should think it best, that 
as much as it can be conveniently avoided, 
they should not be kept constantly to an Hour: as 25 

For when Custom has fix d his Eating to certain stated 
Periods, his Stomach will expect Victuals at the usual 
Hour, and grow peevish if he passes it; either fretting 
itself into a troublesome Excess, or flagging into a down 
right want of Appetite. Therefore I would have no Time 30 
kept constantly to for his Breakfast, Dinner and Supper, 
but rather vary d almost every Day. And if betwixt these, 
which I call Meals, he will eat, let him have, as often as 
he calls for it, good dry Bread. If any one think this too 
hard and sparing a Diet for a Child, let them know, that a 35 
Child will never starve nor dwindle for want of Nourishment, 
who, besides Flesh at Dinner, and Spoon-meat, or some 
such other thing, at Supper, may have good Bread and 
Beer as often as he has a Stomach. For thus, upon 
second thoughts, I should judge it best for Children to be 40 
order d. The Morning is generally design d for Study, to 

12 Drinking. [ 15 18 

which a full Stomach is but an ill Preparation. Dry 
Bread, though the best Nourishment, has the least Temp 
tation; and no body would have a Child cramm d at 
Breakfast, who has any Regard to his Mind or Body, and 
5 would not have him dull and unhealthy. Nor let any one 
think this unsuitable to one of Estate and Condition. A 
Gentleman in any Age ought to be so bred, as to be fitted 
to bear Arms, and be a Soldier. But he that in this, breeds 
his Son so, as if he design d him to sleep over his Life in 

10 the Plenty and Ease of a full Fortune he intends to leave 
him, little considers the Examples he has seen, or the Age 
he lives in. 

1 6. His Drink should be only Small Beer; and 
. that too he should never be suffer d to have 

1 5 between Meals, but after he had eat a Piece of 

Bread. The Reasons why I say this are these. 

17. i. More Fevers and Surfeits are got by People s 
drinking when they are hot, than by any one Thing I 
know. Therefore, if by Play he be hot and dry, Bread will 

20 ill go down ; and so if he cannot have Drink but upon that 
Condition, he will be forced to forbear ; for, if he be very 
hot, he should by no means drink; at least a good Piece of 
Bread first to be eaten, will gain Time to warm the Beer 
Blood-hot, which then he may drink safely. If he be very 

25 dry, it will go down so warm d, and quench his Thirst better ; 
and if he will not drink it so warm d, abstaining will not 
hurt him. Besides, this will teach him to forbear, which 
is an Habit of greatest Use for Health of Body and Mind 

30 1 8. 2. Not being permitted to drink without eating, 
will prevent the Custom of having the Cup often at his 
Nose; a dangerous Beginning, and Preparation to Good- 
fellowship. Men often bring habitual Hunger and Thirst 
on themselves by Custom. And if you please to try, you 

35 may, though he be wean d from it, bring him by Use to 
such a Necessity again of Drinking in the Night, that he 
will not be able to sleep without it. It being the Lullaby 
used by Nurses to still crying Children, I believe Mothers 
generally find some Difficulty to wean their Children from 

40 drinking in the Night, when they first take them Home. 
Believe it, Custom prevails as much by Day as by "Night ; 

iS 20] Against strong drinks. 13 

and you may, if you please, bring any one to be thirsty every 

I once liv d in a House, where, to appease a froward 
Child, they gave him Drink as often as he cry d ; so that he 
was constantly bibbing. And tho he could not speak, yet 5 
he drank more in twenty-four Hours than I did. Try it 
when you please, you may with small, as well as with strong 
Beer, drink your self into a Drought. The great Thing 
to be minded in Education is, what Habits you ^ 
settle ; and thereiore in this, as all other Things, 10 

do not begin to make any Thing customary, the Practice 
whereof you would not have continue and increase. It is 
\ convenient for Health and Sobriety, to drink no more than 
natural Thirst requires ; and he that eats not salt Meats, nor 
drinks strong Drink, will seldom thirst between Meals, un- 15 
less he has been accustom d to such unseasonable Drinking, 

19. Above all, take great Care that he seldom, if ever, 
taste any Wine or strong Drink. There *$ strong Drink 
nothing so ordinarily given Children in Eng 
land, and nothing so destructive to them. They ought 20 
never to drink any strong Liquor but when they need it 
as a Cordial, and the Doctor prescribes it. And in this 
Case it is, that Servants are most narrowly to be watch d, 
and most severely to be reprehended when they transgress. 
Those mean sort of People, placing a great Part of their 25 
Happiness in strong Drink, are always forward to make 
court to my young Master by offering him that which they 
love best themselves : And finding themselves made merry 
by it, they foolishly think twill do the Child no Harm. 
This you are carefully to have your Eye upon, and restrain 3 
with all the Skill and Industry you can, there being nothing 
that lays a surer Foundation of Mischief, both to Body and 
Mind, than Children s being us d to strong Drink, especially 
to drink in private with the Servants. 

20. Fruit makes one of the most difficult Chapters in 35 
the Government of Health, especially that of 
Children. Our first Parents ventur d Paradise 
for it ; and tis no wonder our Children cannot stand the 
Temptation, tho it cost them their Health. The Regulation 
of this .cannot come under any one general Rule ; for I am 40 
by no means of their Mind, who would keep Children ( 

14 Fruit. [ 20, 21 

almost wholly from Fruit, as a Thing totally unwholesome 
for them: By which strict Way, they make them but the 
more ravenous after it, and to eat good or bad, ripe or 
unripe, all that they can get, whenever they come at it. 
5 Melons, Peaches, most sorts of Plums, and all sorts of 
Grapes in England, I think Children should be wholly kept 
from, as having a very tempting Taste, in a very unwhole 
some Juice ; so that if it were possible, they should never 
so much as see them, or know there were any such Thing. 

10 But Strawberries, Cherries, Gooseberries, or Currans, when 
thorough ripe, I think may be very safely allow d them, 
and that with a pretty liberal Hand, if they be eaten with 
these Cautions : i. Not after Meals, as we usually do, 
when the Stomach is already full of other Food: But I 

15 think they should be eaten rather before or between Meals, 
and Children should have them for their Breakfast. 2. 
Bread eaten with them. 3. Perfectly ripe. If they are thus 
eaten, I imagine them rather conducing than hurtful to 
our Health. Summer- Fruits, being suited to the hot Season 

20 of the Year they come in, refresh our Stomachs, languishing 
and fainting under it ; and therefore I should not be 
altogether so strict in this Point, as some are to their 
Children; who being kept so very short, instead of a 
moderate Quantity of well-chosen Fruit, which being allow d 

25 them would content them, whenever they can get loose, or 
bribe a Servant to supply them, satisfy their Longing with 
any Trash they can get, and eat to a Surfeit. 

Apples and Pears too, which are thorough ripe, and have 
been gather d some Time, I think may be safely eaten at 

30 any Time, and in pretty large Quantities, especially Apples ; 
which never did any body Hurt, that I have heard, after 

Fruits also dry d without Sugar, I think very wholesome. 
But Sweet-meats of all Kinds are to be avoided ; which, 

35 whether they do more Harm to the Maker or Eater, is not 
easy to tell. This I am sure, it is one of the most inconve 
nient Ways of Expence that Vanity hath yet found out; and 
so I leave them to the Ladies. 

21. Of all that looks soft and effeminate, 

40 nothing is more to be indulg d Children, than 

Sleep. In this alone they are to be permitted to have their 

21] Sleep. 15 

full Satisfaction; nothing contributing more to the Growth 
and Health of Children, than Sleep. All that is to be 
regulated in it, is, in what Part of the twenty-four Hours 
they should take it ; which will easily be resolved, by only 
saying that it is of great Use to accustom em to rise early 5 
in the Morning. It is best so to do, for Health ; and he 
that, from his Childhood, has, by a settled Custom, made 
rising betimes easy and familiar to him, will not, when he is a 
Man, waste the best and most useful Part of his Life in 
Drowsiness, and lying a-bed. If Children therefore are 10 
to be call d up early in the Morning, it will follow of course, 
that they must go to Bed betimes ; whereby they will be 
accustom d to avoid the unhealthy and unsafe Hours of 
Debauchery, which are those of the Evenings; and they 
who keep good Hours, seldom are guilty of any great 15 
Disorders. I do not say this, as if your Son, when grown 
up, should never be in Company past eight, nor ever chat 
over a Glass of Wine till Midnight. You are now, by the 
accustoming of his tender Years, to indispose him to those 
Inconveniences as much as you can; and it will be no 20 
small Advantage, that contrary Practice having made sitting 
up uneasy to him, it will make him often avoid, and very 
seldom propose Midnight- Revels. But if it should not reach 
so far, but Fashion and Company should prevail, and make 
him live as others do above Twenty, tis worth the while to 25 
accustom him to early Rising and early Going to Bed, be 
tween this and that, for the present Improvement of his 
Health and other Advantages. 

Though I have said, a large Allowance of Sleep, even 
as much as they will take, should be made to Children 30 
when they are little; yet I do not mean, that it should 
always be continued to them in so large a Proportion, and 
they sufter d to indulge a drowsy Laziness in their Bed, 
as they grow up bigger. But whether they should begin to 
be restrained at seven or ten Years old, or any other Time, 35 
is impossible to be precisely determined. Their Tempers, 
Strength, and Constitutions, must be consider d. But some 
Time between seven and fourteen, if they are too great 
Lovers of their Beds, I think it may be seasonable to begin 
to reduce them by Degrees to about eight Hours, which is 40 
generally Rest enough for healthy grown People. If you 

1 6 Sleep and bedding. [ 21, 22 

have accustom d him, as you should do, to rise constantly 
very early in the Morning, this Fault of being too long in 
Bed will easily be reform d, and most Children will be 
forward enough to shorten that Time themselves, by covet- 
5 ing to sit up with the Company at Night; tho if they be not 
look d after, they will be apt to take it out in the Morning, 
which should by no means be permitted. They should con 
stantly be call d up and made to rise at their early Hour; 
but great Care should be taken in waking them, that it be 

10 not done hastily, nor with a loud or shrill Voice, or any 
other sudden violent Noise. This often affrights Children, 
and does them great Harm; and sound Sleep thus broke off, 
with sudden Alarms, is apt enough to discompose any one. 
When Children are to be waken d out of their Sleep, be sure 

1 5 to begin with a low Call, and some gentle Motion, and so 
draw them out of it by degrees, and give them none but 
kind Words and Usage, till they are come perfectly to 
themselves, and being quite dress d, you are sure they are 
thoroughly awake. The being forc d from their Sleep, how 

23 gently soever you do it, is Pain enough to them; and Care 
should be taken not to add any other Uneasiness to it, 
especially such that may terrify them. 

22. Let his Bed be hard, and rather Quilts than 
Bf;d Feathers. Hard Lodging strengthens the Parts ; 

25 whereas being bury d every Night in Feathers 

melts and dissolves the Body, is often the Cause of Weak 
ness, and Forerunner of an early Grave. And, besides the 
Stone, which has often its Rise from this warm Wrapping 
of the Reins, several other Indispositions, and that whidi is 

30 the Root of them all, a tender weakly Constitution, is very 
much owing to Down-Beds. Besides, he that is used to 
hard Lodging at Home, will not miss his Sleep (where he 
has most need of it) in his Travels Abroad, for want of his 
soft Bed, and his Pillows laid in order. And therefore, I 

35 think it would not be amiss, to make his Bed after different 
Fashions, sometimes lay his Head higher, sometimes lower, 
that he may not feel every little Change he must be sure to 
meet with, who is not design d to lie always in my young 
Master s Bed at Home, and to have his Maid lay all Things 

40 in Print, and tuck him in warm. The great Cordial of 
Nature is Sleep. He that misses that, will sufter by it ; and 

22 24] Action of the bowels. 17 

he is very unfortunate, who can take his Cordial only in 
his Mother s fine gilt Cup, and not in a wooden Dish. He 
that can sleep soundly, takes the Cordial; and it matters 
not whether it be on a soft Bed or the hard Boards. Tis 
Sleep only that is the Thing necessary. 5 

23. One Thing more there is, which has a great Influ 
ence upon the Health, and that is, goin? to Stool , 

C, OS 1 1 V6H SS 

regularly: People that are very loose, have sel 
dom strong Thoughts, or strong Bodies. But the Cure of 
this, both by Diet and Medicine, being much more easy 10 
than the contrary Evil, there needs not much to be said 
about it : For if it come to threaten, either by its Violence 
or Duration, it will soon enough, and sometimes too soon, 
make a Physician be sent for; and if it be moderate or short, 
it is commonly best to leave it to Nature. On the other 15 
Side, Co stiveness has too its ill Effects, and is much harder to 
be dealt with by Physick; purging Medicines, which seem 
to give Relief, rather increasing them than removing the Evil. 
24. It being an Indisposition I had a particular 
Reason to enquire into, and not finding the Cure of it in 20 
Books, I set my Thoughts on work, believing that greater 
Changes than that might be made in our Bodies, if we took 
the right Course, and proceeded by rational Steps. 

1. Then I consider d, that Going to Stool, was the Effect 
of certain Motions of the Body; especially of the peristaltick 25 
ITotion of the Guts. 

2. I consider d, that several Motions, that were not 
perfectly voluntary, might yet, by Use and constant Appli 
cation, be brought to be habitual, if by an unintermitted 
Custom they were at certain Seasons endeavour d to be 30 
constantly produced. 

3. I had observ d some Men, who by taking after 
Supper a Pipe of Tobacco, never fail d of a Stool, and began 
to doubt with myself, whether it were not more Custom, 
than the Tobacco, that gave them the Benefit of Nature; or 35 
at least, if the Tobacco did it, it was rather by exciting a 
vigorous Motion in the Guts, than by any purging Quality; 
for then it would have had other Effects. 

Having thus once got the Opinion that it was possible 
to make it habitual, the next Thing was to consider what 40 
Way and Means was the likeliest to obtain it. 

iS Action of the bowels. [ 24 27 

4. Then I guess d, that if a Man, after his first eating 

in the Morning, would presently solicit Nature, and try 

whether he could strain himself so as to obtain a Stool, he 

might in Time, by a constant Application, bring it to be 

5 habitual. 

25. The Reasons that made me chuse this Time, were, 

1. Because the Stomach being then empty, if it re- 
ceiv d any Thing grateful to it (for I would never, but in 
Case of Necessity, have any one eat but what he likes, and 

10 when he has an Appetite) it was apt to embrace it close by 
a strong Constriction of its Fibres; which Constriction, I 
suppos d, might probably be continu d on in the Guts, and 
so increase their peristaltick Motion, as we see in the Ileus, 
that an inverted Motion, being begun any where below, 

15 continues itself all the whole Length, and makes even the 
Stomach obey that irregular Motion. 

2. Because when Men eat, they usually relax their 
Thoughts, and the Spirits then, free from other Employ 
ments, are more vigorously distributed into the lower Belly, 

20 which thereby contribute to the same Effect. 

3. Because, whenever Men have Leisure to eat, they 
have Leisure enough also to make so much Court to Madam 
Cloacina, as would be necessary to our present Purpose; 
but else, in the Variety of human Affairs and Accidents, it 

25 was impossible to affix it to any Hour certain, whereby the 
Custom would be interrupted. Whereas Men in Health 
seldom failing to eat once a Day, tho the Hour chang d, 
the Custom might still be preserv d. 

26. Upon these Grounds the Experiment began to be 

30 try d, and I have known none who have been steady in the 
Prosecution of it, and taken Care to go constantly to the 
Necessary-House, after their first eating, whenever that 
happen d, whether they found themselves call d on or no, 
and there endeavour to put Nature upon her Duty, but in a 

35 few Months they obtain d the desired Success, and brought 
themselves to so regular an Habit, that they seldom ever 
fail d of a Stool after their first eating, unless it were by their 
own Neglect: For, whether they have any Motion or no, if 
they go the Place, and do their Part, they are sure to have 

40 Nature very obedient. 

27. I would therefore advise, that this Course should 

2729] Medicine. ig 

be taken with a Child every Day presently after he has eaten 
his Breakfast. Let him be set upon the Stool, as if dis- 
burthening were as much in his Power as filling his Belly; 
and let not him or his Maid know any thing to the contrary, 
but that it is so; and if he be forc d to endeavour, by being 5 
hinder d from his Play or eating again till he has been 
effectually at Stool, or at least done his utmost, I doubt not 
but in a little while it will become natural to him. For 
there is reason to suspect, that Children being usually intent 
on their Play, and very heedless of any Thing else, often let 10 
pass those Motions of Nature, when she calls them but 
gently; and so they, neglecting the seasonable Offers, do by 
degrees bring themselves into an habitual Costiveness. That 
by this Method costiveness may be prevented, I do more 
than guess ; having known by the constant Practice of it for 15 
some Time, a Child brought to have a Stool regularly after 
his Breakfast every Morning. 

28. How far any grown People will think fit to make 
Trial of it, must be left to them; tho I cannot but say, that 
considering the many Evils that come from that Defect, of a 20 
requisite Easing of Nature, I scarce know any Thing more 
conducing to the Preservation of Health, than this is. 
Once in four and twenty Hours, I think is enough; and no 
body, I guess, will think it too much. And by this Means 
it is to be obtain d without Physick, which commonly proves 25 
very ineffectual in the Cure of a settled and habitual Cos 

29. This is all I have to trouble you with concerning 
his Management in the ordinary Course of his Health. 
Perhaps it will be expected from me, that I should give 30 
some Directions of Physick, to prevent Diseases; 
for which I have only this one, very sacredly to 
be observ d, never to give Children any Physick for Preven 
tion. The Observation of what I have already advis d, will, 
I suppose, do that better than the Ladies Diet-drinks or 3 5 
Apothecaries Medicines. Have a great Care of tampering 
that Way, lest, instead of preventing, you draw on Diseases. 
Nor even upon every little Indisposition is Physick to be 
given, or the Physician to be call d to Children, especially 
if he be a busy Man, that will presently fill their Windows 40 
with Gally-pots, and their Stomachs with Drugs. It is safer 

2 2 

20 Mind formed by Education. [ 29 32 

to leave them wholly to Nature, than to put em into the 
Hands of one forward to tamper, or that thinks Children 
are to be curd, in ordinary Distempers, by any Thing but 
Diet, or by a Method very little distant from it: It seeming 
5 suitable both to my Reason and Experience, that the tender 
Constitutions of Children should have as little done to them 
as is possible, and as the absolute Necessity of the Case 
requires. A little cold-still d red Poppy-water, which is the 
true Surfeit-water, with Ease, and Abstinence from Flesh, 

10 often puts an end to several Distempers in the Beginning, 
which, by too forward Applications, might have been made 
lusty Diseases. When such a gentle Treatment will not 
stop the growing Mischief, nor hinder it from turning into 
a form d Disease, it will be time to seek the Advice of some 

15 sober and discreet Physician. In this Part, I hope, I shall 
find an easy Belief; and no body can have a Pretence to 
doubt the Advice of one who has spent some Time in the 
Study of Physick, when he counsels you not to be too 
forward in making use of Physick and Physicians. 

20 30. And thus I have done with what concerns the 
Body and Health, which reduces itself to these few and easy 
observable Rules : Plenty of open Air, Exercise, and Sleep, 
plain Diet, no Wine or strong Drink, and very little or no 
Physick, not too warm and strait Clothing, especially the 

25 Head z\\& Feet kept cold, and the Feet often us d to cold 
Water, and expos d to wet. 

31. Due Care being had to keep the Body in Strength 

and Vigour, so that it may be able to obey and execute the 

... , Orders of the Mind; the next and principal 

30 Business is, to set the Mind right, that on all 

Occasions it may be dispos d to consent to nothing but what 
may be suitable to the Dignity and Excellency of a rational 

32. If what I have said in the beginning of this Dis- 

35 course be true, as I do not doubt but it is, viz. That the 
Difference to be found in the Manners and Abilities of Men 
is owing more to their Education than to any Thing else, 
we have reason to conclude, that great Care is to be had of 
the forming Children s Minds, and giving them that Season- 

40 ing early, which shall influence their Lives always after: 
For when they do well or ill, the Praise and Blame will be 

3 2 35] Self-denial must be taught early. 21 

laid there; and when any Thing is done awkwardly, the 
common saying will pass upon them, that it s suitable to 
their Breeding. 

33. As the Strength of the Body lies chiefly in being 
able to endure Hardships, so also does that of the Mind. 5 
And the great Principle and Foundation of all Virtue and 
Worth is plac d in this : That a Man is able to deny /iim- 
se/fhis own Desires, cross his own Inclinations, and purely 
follow what Reason directs as best, tho the Appetite lean 
the other Way. 10 

34. The great Mistake I have observ d in People s 
breeding their Children, has been, that this has 
not been taken Care enough of in its due Season; 
that the Mind has not been made obedient to Discipline, 
and pliant to Reason, when at first it was most tender, most 15 
easy to be bow d. Parents being wisely ordain d by Na 
ture to love their Children, are very apt, if Reason watch 
not that natural Affection very warily, are apt, I say, to let 
it run into Fondness. They love their little ones and tis 
their Duty; but they often, with them, cherish their Faults 20 
too. They must not be cross d, forsooth; they must be 
permitted to have their Wills in all Things; and they being 
in their Infancies not capable of great Vices, their Parents 
think they may safe enough indulge their Irregularities, and 
make themselves Sport with that pretty Perverseness which 25 
they think well enough becomes that innocent Age. But to 
a fond Parent, that would not have his Child corrected for 
a perverse Trick, but excus d it, saying it was a small 
Matter, Solon very well reply d, Aye, but Custom is a great 
one. 30 

35. The Fondling must be taught to strike and 
call Names, must have what he cries for, and do what 
he pleases. Thus Parents, by humouring and cocker 
ing them when little, corrupt the Principles of Nature in 
their Children, and wonder afterwards to taste the bitter 35 
Waters, when they themselves have poison d the Foun 
tain. For when their Children are grown up, and these 
ill Habits with them; when they are now too big to be 
dandled, and their Parents can no longer make Use of 
them as Play-things, then they complain that the Brats are 40 
untoward and perverse ; then they are offended to see them 

22 Spoiling children and its results. [ 35, 36 

wilful, and are troubled with those ill Humours which they 
themselves infus dand fomented in them; and then, perhaps 
too late, would be glad to get out those Weeds which their 
own Hands have planted, and which now have taken too 
5 deep Root to be easily extirpated. For he that hath been 
us d to have his Will in every Thing, as long as he was in 
Coats, why should we think it strange, that he should desire 
it, and contend for it still, when he is in Breeches? Indeed, 
as he grows more towards a Man, Age shews his Faults 

10 the more; so that there be few Parents then so blind as not 
to see them, few so insensible as not to feel the ill Effects of 
their own Indulgence. He had the Will of his Maid before 
he could speak or go ; he had the Mastery of his Parents 
ever since he could prattle; and why, now he is grown up, 

15 is stronger and wiser than he was then, why now of a sudden 
must he be restrain d and curb d ? Why must he at seven, 
fourteen, or twenty Years old, lose the Privilege, which the 
Parents Indulgence till then so largely allow d him ? Try 
it in a Dog or an Horse or any other Creature, and see 

20 whether the ill and resty Tricks they have learn d when 
young, are easily to be mended when they are knit; and 
yet none of those Creatures are half so wilful and proud, 
or half so desirous to be Masters of themselves and others, 
as Man. 

2 5 36- We are generally wise enough to begin with them 
when they are very young, and discipline betimes those other 
Creatures we would make useful and good for somewhat. 
They are only our own Offspring, that we neglect in this 
Point ; and having made them ill Children, we foolishly 

30 expect they should be good Men. For if the Child must 
have Grapes or Sugar-plumbs when he has a Mind to them, 
rather than make the poor Baby cry or be out of Humour ; 
why, when he is grown up, must he not be satisfy d too, 
if his Desires carry him to Wine or Women? They are 

35 Objects as suitable to the Longing of one of more Years, as 
what he cry d for, when little, was to the Inclinations of a 
Child. The having Desires accommodated to the Appre 
hensions and Relish of those several Ages, is not the Fault ; 
but the not having them subject to the Rules and Restraints 

40 of Reason: The Difference lies not in having or not having 
Appetites, but in the Power to govern, and deny our selves 

3*>, 37] Training in cruelty and vanity. 23 

in them. He that is not us d to submit his Will to the 
Reason of others when he is young, will scarce hearken to 
submit to his own Reason when he is of an Age to make 
Use of it. And what kind of a Man such an one is like to 
prove, is easy to foresee. 5 

37. These are Oversights usually committed by those 
who seem to take the greatest Care of their Children s Edu 
cation. But if we look into the common Management of 
Children, we shall have Reason to wonder, in the great 
Dissoluteness of Manners which the World complains of, 10 
that there are any Footsteps at all left of Virtue. I desire 
to know what Vice can be nam d, which Parents, and those 
about Children, do not season them with, and drop into 
em the Seeds of, as soon as they are capable to receive 
them? I do not mean by the Examples they give, and 15 
the Patterns they set before them, which is Encourage 
ment enough; but that which I would take notice of here 
is, the downright teaching them Vice, and actual putting 
them out of the Way of Virtue. Before they can go, they 
principle em with Violence, Revenge, and Cruelty. Give 20 
me a Bl<m>, that I may beat him, is a Lesson which most 
Children every Day hear; and it is thought nothing, because 
their Hands have not Strength to do any Mischief. But I 
ask, Does not this corrupt their Mind ? Is not this the 
Way of Force and Violence, that they are set in ? And if 25 
they have been taught when little, to strike and hurt others 
by Proxy, and encourag d to rejoice in the Harm they have 
brought upon them, and see them suffer, are they not 
prepar d to do it when they are strong enough to be felt 
themselves, and can strike to some Purpose ? 30 

The Coverings of our Bodies which are for Modesty, 
Warmth and Defence, are by the Folly or Vice of Parents 
recommended to their Children for other Uses. They are 
made Matters of Vanity and Emulation. A Child is set 
a- longing after a new Suit, for the Finery of it; and when the 35 
little Girl is trick d up in her new Gown and Commode, how 
can her Mother do less than teach her to admire herself, 
by calling her, her little Queen and her Princess ? Thus the 
little ones are taught to be proud of their Clothes before 
they can put them on. And why should they not continue 40 
to value themselves for their Outside Fashionableness of the 

24 Training in lying and intemperance. [ 37 

Taylor or Tirewoman s Making, when their Parents have so 
early instructed them to do so ? 

Lying and Equivocations, and Excuses little different 
from Lying, are put into the Mouths of young People, and 
5 commended in Apprentices and Children, whilst they are 
for their Master s or Parents Advantage. And can it be 
thought, that he that finds the Straining of Truth dispens d 
with, and encourag d, whilst it is for his godly Master s 
Turn, will not make Use of that Privilege for himself, when 

TO it may be for his own Profit? 

Those of the meaner Sort are hinder d, by the Straitness 
of their Fortunes, from encouraging Intemperance in their 
Children by the Temptation of their Diet, or Invitations 
to eat or drink more than enough; but their own ill Exam- 

15 pies, whenever Plenty comes in their Way, shew, that tis 
not the Dislike of Drunkenness or Gluttony, that keeps 
them from Excess, but want of Materials. But if we look 
into the Houses of those who are a little warmer in their 
Fortunes, their Eating and Drinking are made so much 

20 the great Business and Happiness of Life, that Children are 
thought neglected, if they have not their Share of it. Sauces 
and Ragoos, and Food disguis d by all the Arts of Cookery, 
must tempt their Palates, when their Bellies are full ; and 
then, for fear the Stomach should be overcharg d, a Pretence 

25 is found for t other Glass of Wine to help Digestion, tho it 
only serves to increase the Surfeit. 

Is my young Master a little out of Order, the first 

Question is, What will my Dear eat ? What shall I get 

for thec? Eating and Drinking are instantly press d; and 

30 every body s Invention is set on Work to find out something 
luscious and delicate enough 10 prevail over that Want of 
Appetite, which Nature has wisely order d in the Beginning 
of Distempers, as a Defence against their Increase ; that 
being freed from the ordinary Labour of digesting any new 

35 Load in the Stomach, she may be at leisure to correct and 
master the peccant Humours. 

And where Children are so happy in the Care of their 
Parents, as by their Prudence to be kept from the Excess of 
their Tables, to the Sobriety of a plain and simple Diet, yet 

40 there too they are scarce to be preserv d from the Contagion 
that poisons the Mind; though, by a discreet Management 

37,3 8 ] Safeguard in early training to self-denial. 25 

whilst they are under Tuition, their Healths perhaps may be 
pretty well secure, yet their Desires must needs yield to the 
Lessons which every where will be read to them upon this 
Part of Epicurism. The Commendation that eating well 
has every where, cannot fail to be a successful Incentive to 5 
natural Appetites, and bring them quickly to the Liking 
and Expence of a fashionable Table. This shall have from 
every one, even the Reprovers of Vice, the Title of Living 
well. And what shall sullen Reason dare to say against 
the publick Testimony? Or can it hope to be heard, if it 10 
should call that Luxury, which is so much own d and uni 
versally practis d by those of the best Quality ? 

This is now so grown a Vice, and has so great Supports, 
that I know not whether it do not put in for the Name of 
Virtue ; and whether it will not be thought Folly, or want of 1 5 
Knowledge of the World, to open one s Mouth against it? 
And truly I should suspect, that what I have here said of it, 
might be censur d as a little Satire out of my Way, did I not 
mention it with this View, that it might awaken the Care and 
Watchfulness of Parents in the Education of their Children, 20 
when they see how they are beset on every Side, not only 
with Temptations, but Instructors to Vice, and that, per 
haps, in those they thought Places of Security. 

I shall not dwell any longer on this subject, much less 
run over all the Particulars that would shew what Pains are 25 
us d to corrupt Children, and instil Principles of Vice into 
them: But I desire Parents soberly to consider, what Irre 
gularity or Vice there is which Children are not visibly 
taught, and whether it be not their Duty and Wisdom to 
provide them other Instructions. 30 

38. It seems plain to me, that the Principle of all 
Virtue and Excellency lies in a Power of denying 
our selves the Satisfaction of our own Desires, 
where Reason does not authorize them. This Power is to 
be got and improv d by Custom, made easy and familiar by 35 
an early Practice. If therefore I might be heard, I would 
advise, that, contrary to the ordinary Way, Children should 
be us d to submit their Desires, and go without their 
Longings, even from their very Cradles. The first Thing they 
should learn to know, should be, that they were not to have 40 
any Thing because it pleas d them, but because it was 

26 Do not reward importunity. [ 38, 39 

thought fit for them. If Things suitable to their Wants 
were supply d to them, so that they were never suffer d to 
have what they once cry d for, they would learn to be con 
tent without it, would never, with Bawling and Peevishness, 
5 contend for Mastery, nor be half so uneasy to themselves 
and others as they are, because from the first Beginning 
they are not thus handled. If they were never suffer d to 
obtain their Desire by the Impatience they express d for it, 
they would no more cry for another Thing, than they do for 

10 the Moon. 

39. I say not this, as if Children were not to be 
indulg d in any Thing, or that I expected they should in 
Hanging-Sleeves have the Reason and Conduct of Counsel 
lors. I consider them as Children, who must be tenderly 

1 5 us d, who must play, and have Play-things. That which I 
mean, is, that whenever they crav d what was not fit for 
them to have or do, they should not be permitted it because 
they were /////<?, and desir d it: Nay, whatever they were 
importunate for, they should be sure, for that very Reason, 

20 to be deny d. I have seen Children at a Table, who, 
whatever was there, never ask d for any Thing, but con 
tentedly took what was given them : And at another Place, 
I have seen others cry for every thing they saw ; must be 
serv d out of every Dish, and that first too. What made 

25 this vast difference but this? that one was accustom d to 
have what theycall dor cry d for, the other to go without it. 
The younger they are, the less I think are their unruly and 
disorderly Appetites to be comply d with ; and the less 
Reason they have of their own, the more are they to be 

30 under the absolute Power and Restraint of those in whose 
Hands they are. From which I confess it will follow, that 
none but discreet People should be about them. If the 
World commonly does otherwise, I cannot help that. I am 
saying what I think should be ; which if it were already in 

35 Fashion, I should not need to trouble the World with a Dis 
course on this Subject. But yet I doubt not, but when it is 
consider d, there will be others of Opinion with me, that the 
sooner this Way is begun with Children, the easier it will be 
for them and their Governors too ; and that this ought to be 

40 observ d as an inviolable Maxim, that whatever once is 
deny d them, they are certainly not to obtain by Crying or 

39 4 1 ] Parent and Child. 27 

Importunity, unless one has a Mind to teach them to be 
impatient and troublesome, by rewarding them for it when 
they are so. 

40. Those therefore that intend ever to govern their 
Children, should begin it whilst they are very Earl 5 

little, and look that they perfectly comply with 
the Will of their Parents. Would you have your Son obe 
dient to you when past a Child ; be sure then to establish 
the Authority of a Father as soon as he is capable of Sub 
mission, and can understand in whose Power he is. If you 10 
would have him stand in awe of you, imprint it in his 
Infancy ; and as he approaches more to a Man, admit him 
nearer to your Familiarity ; so shall you have him your 
obedient Subject (as is fit) whilst he is a Child, and your 
affectionate Friend when he is a Man. For methinks they 15 
mightily misplace the Treatment due to their Children, who 
are indulgent and familiar when they are little, but severe to 
them, and keep them at a distance, when they are grown 
up : For Liberty and Indulgence can do no good to Chil 
dren; their Want of Judgment makes them stand in need 20 
of Restraint and Discipline ; and on the contrary, Imperi- 
ousness and Severity is but an ill Way of treating Men, who 
have Reason of their own to guide them ; unless you have a 
mind to make your Children, when grown up, weary of you, 
and secretly to say within themselves, When will you die, 25 
Father ? 

41. I imagine every one will judge it reasonable, 
that their Children, when little, should look upon their 
Parents as their Lords, their absolute Governors, and as 
such stand in awe of them ; and that when they come to 30 
riper Years, they should look on them as their best, as their 
only sure Friends, and as such love and reverence them. 
The Way I have mention d, if I mistake not, is the only one 
to obtain this. We must look upon our Children, when 
grown up, to be like our selves, with the same Passions, the 35 
same Desires. We would be thought rational Creatures, 
and have our Freedom ; we love not to be uneasy under 
constant Rebukes and Brow-beatings, nor can we bear 
severe Humours and great Distance in those we converse 
with. Whoever has such Treatment when he is a Man, 40 

28 Father and Son. [ 41 43 

will look out other Company, other Friends, other Conver 
sation, with whom he can be at Ease. If therefore a strict 
Hand be kept over Children from the Beginning, they will 
in that Age be tractable, and quietly submit to it, as never 
5 having known any other : And if, as they grow up to the 
Use of Reason, the Rigour of Government be, as they 
deserve it, gently relax d, the Father s Brow more smooth d 
to them, and the Distance by Degrees abated, his former 
Restraints will increase their Love, when they find it was 

10 only a Kindness to them, and a Care to make them capable 
to deserve the Favour of their Parents, and the Esteem of 
every Body else. 

42. Thus much for the settling your Authority over 
your Children in general. Fear and Awe ought to give you 

15 the first Power over their Minds, and Love and Friendship 
in riper Years to hold it : For the Time must come, when 
they will be past the Rod and Correction : and then, if the 
Love of you make them not obedient and dutiful, if the 
Love of Virtue and Reputation keep them not in laudable 

20 Courses, I ask, what Hold will you have upon them to turn 
them to it? Indeed, Fear of having a scanty Portion if 
they displease you, may make them Slaves to your Estate, 
but they will be nevertheless ill and wicked in private ; and 
that Restraint will not last always. Every Man must some 

25 Time or other be trusted to himself and his own Conduct; 
and he that is a good, a virtuous, and able Man, must be 
made so within. And therefore what he is to receive from 
Education, what is to sway and influence his Life, must be 
something put into him betimes ; Habits woven into the 

30 very Principles of his Nature, and not a counterfeit Car 
riage, and dissembled Outside, put on by Fear, only to 
avoid the present Anger of a Father who perhaps may 
disinherit him. 

43. This being laid down in general, as the Course 

jc that ought to be taken, tis fit we now come to 

vJJ Punishments. . , . - r , . . ,. , , , 

consider the Parts of the Discipline to be us d, 
a little more particularly. I have spoken so much of carry 
ing a strict Hand over Children, that perhaps I shall be 
suspected of not considering enough, what is due to their 
40 tender Age and Constitutions. But that Opinion will vanish, 

43 45] How to avoid Punishments. 29 

when you have heard me a little farther : For I am very apt 
to think, that great Severity of Punishment does but very 
little Good, nay, great Harm in Education ; and I believe 
it will be found that, azteris paribus, those Children who 
have been most chastised, seldom make the best Men. All 5 
that I have hitherto contended for, is, that whatsoever Rigor 
is necessary, it is more to be us d, the younger Children 
are ; and having by a due Application wrought its Effect, it 
is to be relax d, and chang d into a milder Sort of Govern 
ment. 10 

44. A Compliance and Suppleness of their Wills, 
being by a steady Hand introduc d by Parents, . 
before Children have Memories to retain the 
Beginnings of it, will seem natural to them, and work after 
wards in them as if it were so, preventing all Occasions 01 15 
struggling or repining. The only Care is, that it be begun 
early, and inflexibly kept to till Awe and Respect be grown 
familiar, and there appears not the least Reluctancy in the 
Submission, and ready Obedience of their Minds. When 
this Reverence is once thus established, (which it must be 20 
early, or else it will cost Pains and Blows to recover it, and 
the more the longer it is deferr d) tis by it, still mix d with 
as much Indulgence as they make not an ill use of, and not 
by Beating, Chiding, or other servile Punishments, they are 
for the future to be govern d as they grow up to -more 25 

45. That this is so, will be easily allow cl, when it is 
but consider d, what is to be aim d at in an 

_ . . Self-denial. 

ingenuous Education; and upon what it turns. 

i. He that has not a Mastery over his Inclinations, he 30 
that knows not how to resist the Importunity of present 
Pleasure or Pain, for the sake of what Reason tells him is 
fit to be done, wants the true Principle of Virtue and In 
dustry, and is in danger never to be good for any Thing. 
This Temper therefore, so contrary to unguided Nature, is 35 
to be got betimes ; and this Habit, as the true Foundation 
of future Ability and Happiness, is to be wrought into the 
Mind as early as may be, even from the first Dawnings of 
Knowledge or Apprehension in Children, and so to be 
connrm d in them, by all the Care and Ways imaginable, by 40 
those who have the Oversight of their Education. 

30 Against corporal punishments. [ 46 48 

46. 2. On the other Side, if the Mind be curb d, 
and humbled too much in Children ; if their 
Spirits be abas d and broken much, by too strict 
an Hand over them, they lose all their Vigour and Industry, 
5 and are in a worse State than the former. For extravagant 
young Fellows, that have Liveliness and Spirit, come some 
times to be set right, and so make able and great Men; 
but dejected Minds, timorous and tame, and low Spirits, are 
hardly ever to be rais d, and very seldom attain to any 

10 Thing. To avoid the Danger that is on either Hand, is the 
great Art ; and he that has found a Way how to keep up a 
Child s Spirit easy, active, and free, and yet at the same 
time to restrain him from many Things he has a Mind to, 
and to draw him to Things that are uneasy to him ; he, I 

15 say, that knows how to reconcile these seeming Contradic 
tions, has, in my Opinion, got the true Secret of Education. 
47. The usual lazy and short Way by Chastisement 
and the Rod, which is the only Instrument of Government 
Beat tnat Tutors generally know, or ever think of, is 

20 the most unfit of any to be us d in Education, 

because it tends to both those Mischiefs; which, as we 
have shewn, are the Scylla and Charybdis, which on the one 
hand or the other ruin all that miscarry. 

48. i. This Kind of Punishment contributes not at 

25 all to the Mastery of our natural Propensity to indulge cor 
poral and present Pleasure, and to avoid Pain at any rate, 
but rather encourages it, and thereby strengthens that in us, 
which is the Root from whence spring all vicious Actions, 
and the Irregularities of Life. For what other Motive, but 

30 of sensual Pleasure and Pain, does a Child act by, who 
drudges at his Book against his Inclination, or abstains 
from eating unwholesome Fruit, that he takes Pleasure in, 
only out of Fear of Whipping? He in this only prefers the 
greater corporal Pleasure, or avoids the greater corporal 

35 Pain. And what is it, to govern his Actions, and direct his 
Conduct by such Motives as these ? What is it, I say, but 
to cherish that Principle in him, which it is our Business to 
root out and destroy? And therefore I cannot think any 
Correction useful to a Child, where the Shame of suffering 

40 for having done amiss, does not work more upon him than 
the Pain. 

49 5 2 ] Harm from Severity. 31 

49. 2. This Sort of Correction naturally breeds an 
Aversion to that which tis the Tutor s Business to create a 
Liking to. How obvious is it to observe, that Children 
come to hate Things which were at first acceptable to them, 
when they find themselves whipped, and chid, and teas d 5 
about them? And it is not to be wonder d at in them, 
when grown Men would not be able to be reconcil d to any 
Thing by such Ways. Who is there that would not be 
disgusted with any innocent Recreation, in itself indifferent 
to him, if he should with Bloius or ill Language be haled 10 
to it, when he had no Mind ? Or be constantly so treated, 
for some Circumstances in his Application to it ? This is 
natural to be so. Offensive Circumstances ordinarily infect 
innocent Things which they are join d with ; and the very 
Sight of a Cup wherein any one uses to take nauseous 15 
Physick, turns his Stomach, so that nothing will relish well 
out of it, tho the Cup be never so clean and well-shap d, and 
of the richest Materials. 

50. 3. Such a Sort of slavish Discipline makes a 
slavish Temper. The Child submits, and dissembles Obe- 20 
dience, whilst the Fear of the Rod hangs over him ; but 
when that is remov d, and by being out of Sight, he can 
promise himself Impunity, he gives the greater Scope to his 
natural Inclination ; which by this Way is not at all alter d, 
but, on the contrary, heighten d and increas d in him; and 25 
after such restraint, breaks out usually with the more Vio 
lence; or, 

51. 4. If Severity carry d to the highest Pitch does 
prevail, and works a Cure upon the present unruly Dis 
temper, it often brings in the room of it a worse and 30 
more dangerous Disease, by breaking the Mind ; and 
then, in the Place of a disorderly young Fellow, you have a 
low spirited moap d Creature, who, however with his unnatu 
ral Sobriety he may please silly People, who commend tame 
unactive Children, because they make no Noise, nor give 35 
them any Trouble ; yet at last, will probably prove as 
uncomfortable a Thing to his Friends, as he will be all his 
Life an useless Thing to himself and others. 

52. Beating them, and all other Sorts of slavish and 
corporal Punishments, are not the Discipline fit 40 

- , , , Rewards, 

to be used in the Education of those we would 

32 Harm from injudicious rewards. [ 52, 53 

have wise, good, and ingenuous Men ; and therefore very 
rarely to be apply d, and that only in great Occasions, and 
Cases of Extremity. On the other Side, to flatter Children 
by Rewards of Things that are pleasant to them, is as care- 
5 fully to be avoided. He that will give to his Son Apples 
or Sugar-Plumbs, or what else of this kind he is most 
delighted with, to make him learn his Book, does but autho 
rize his Love of Pleasure, and cocker up that dangerous 
Propensity, which he ought by all Means to subdue and 

10 stifle in him. You can never hope to teach him to master 
it. whilst you compound for the Check you gave his Incli 
nation in one Place, by the Satisfaction you propose to it in 
another. To make a good, a wise, and a virtuous Man, 
tis fit he should learn to cross his Appetite, and deny his 

15 Inclination to Riches, Finery, or pleasing his Palate, &c. 
whenever his Reason advises the contrary, and his Duty 
requires it. But when you draw him to do any Thing that 
is fit by the Offer of Money, or reward the Pains of Learn 
ing his Book by the Pleasure of a luscious Morsel ; when 

20 you promise him a Lace-Cravat or a fine new Suit, upon 
Performance of some of his little Tasks; what do you by 
proposing these as Rewards, but allow them to be the good 
Things he should aim at, and thereby encourage his Long 
ing for em, and accustom him to place his Happiness in 

25 them? Thus People, to prevail with Children to be indus 
trious about their Grammar, Dancing, or some other such 
Matter, of no great Moment to the Happiness or Usefulness 
of their Lives, by misapply d Rewards and Punishments, 
sacrifice their Virtue, invert the Order of their Education, 

30 and teach them Luxury, Pride, or Covetousness, &c. For 
in this Way, flattering those wrong Inclinations which they 
should restrain and suppress, they lay the Foundations of 
those future Vices, which cannot be avoided but by curbing 
our Desires and accustoming them early to submit to 

35 Reason. 

53. I say not this, that I would have Children kept 
from the Conveniences or Pleasures of Life, that are not 
injurious to their Health or Virtue. On the contrary, I 
would have their Lives made as pleasant and as agreeable 

40 to them as may be, in a plentiful Enjoyment of whatsoever 
might innocently delight them; provided it be with this 

53 55] Rewards and Punishments. 33 

Caution, that they have those Enjoyments, only as the Con 
sequences of the State of Esteem and Acceptation they are 
in with their Parents and Governors; but they should never 
be offer" d or bestow d on them, as the Rewards of this or 
that particular Performance, that they shew an Aversion to, 5 
or to which they would not have apply d themselves without 
that Temptation. 

54. But if you take away the Rod on one Hand, and 
these little Encouragements which they are taken with, on 
the other, how then (will you say) shall Children be govern d? 10 
Remove Hope and Fear, and there is an End of all Dis 
cipline. I grant that Good and Evil, Reward and Punish 
ment, are the only Motives to a rational Creature: These 
are the Spur and Reins whereby all Mankind are set on 
Work, and guided, and therefore they are to be made use of 15 
to Children too. For I advise their Parents and Governors 
always to carry this in their Minds, that Children are to be 
treated as rational Creatures. 

55. Rewards, I grant, and Punishments must be pro 
posed to Children, if we intend to work upon them. The 20 
Mistake I imagine is, that those that are generally made use 
of, are /// chosen. The Pains and Pleasures of the Body are, 
I think, of ill Consequence, when made the Rewards and 
Punishments whereby Men would prevail on their Children; 
for, as I said before, they serve but to increase and strength- 25 
en those Inclinations, which tis our Business to subdue and 
master. What Principle of Virtue do you lay in a Child, 
if you will redeem his Desires of one Pleasure, by the Pro 
posal of another? This is but to enlarge his Appetite, and 
instruct it to wander. If a Child cries for an unwholsome 30 
and dangerous Fruit, you purchase his Quiet by giving him 
a less hurtful Sweet-meat. This perhaps may preserve his 
Health, but spoils his Mind, and sets that farther out of 
Order. For here you only change the Object, but flatter 
still his Appetite, and allow that must be satisfy d, wherein, 35 
as I have shew d, lies the Root of the Mischief; and till you 
bring him to be able to bear a Denial of that Satisfaction, 
the Child may at present be quiet and orderly, but the 
Disease is not cured. By this Way of proceeding, you 
foment and cherish in him that which is the Spring from 40 
whence all the Evil flows, which will be sure on the next 

34 Right management of praise and blame. [ 55 58 

Occasion to break out again with more Violence, give him 
stronger Longings, and you more Trouble. 

56. The Rewards and Punishments then, whereby we 
should keep Children in Order, are quite of 

Reputation. . ,.. . * , , _ , _ 

5 another Kind, and of that Force, that when we 

can get them once to work, the Business, I think, is done, 
and the Difficulty is over. Esteem and Disgrace are, of all 
others, the most powerful Incentives to the Mind, when 
once it is brought to relish them. If you can once get into 

TO Children a Love of Credit, and an Apprehension of Shame 
and Disgrace, you have put into em the true Principle, 
which will constantly work and incline them to the right. 
But it will be ask d, How shall this be done? 

I confess it does not at first Appearance want some 

15 Difficulty; but yet I think it worth our while to seek the 
Ways (and practise them when found) to attain this, which 
I look on as the great Secret of Education. 

57. First, Children (earlier perhaps than we think) 
are very sensible of Praise and Commendation. They find 

20 a Pleasure in being esteem d and valu d, especially by their 
Parents and those whom they depend on. If therefore the 
Father caress and commend them when they do well, shew a 
cold and neglectful Countenance to them upon doing ill, and 
this accompany d by a like Carriage of the Mother and all 

25 others that are about them, it will, in a little Time, make 
them sensible of the Difference ; and this, if constantly 
observ d, I doubt not but will of itself work more than 
Threats or Blows, which lose their Force when once grown 
common, and are of no Use when Shame does not attend 

30 them; and therefore are to be forborne, and never to be us d, 
but in the Case hereafter-mention d, when it is brought to 

58. But Secondly, To make the Sense of Esteem or 
Disgrace sink the deeper, and be of the more Weight, other 

35 agreeable or disagreeable Things should constantly accompany 
these different States; not as particular Rewards and Punish 
ments of this or that particular Action, but as necessarily 
belonging to, and constantly attending one, who by his 
Carriage has brought himself into a State of Disgrace or 

40 Commendation. By which Way of treating them, Children 
may as much as possible be brought to conceive, that those 

5 8 > 59] Difficulty from Servants. 35 

that are commended, and in Esteem for doing well, will 
necessarily be belov d and cherish d by every Body, and 
have all other good Things as a Consequence of it; and on 
the other Side, when any one by Miscarriage falls into Dises- 
teem, and cares not to preserve his Credit, he will unavoid- 5 
ably fall under Neglect and Contempt; and in that State, 
the Want of whatever might satisfy or delight him will follow. 
In this Way the Objects of their Desires are made assisting 
to Virtue, when a settled Experience from the Beginning 
teaches Children that the Things they delight in, belong 10 
to, and are to be enjoy d by those only who are in a State of 
Reputation. If by these Means you can come once to 
shame them out of their Faults, (for besides that, I would 
willingly have no Punishment) and make them in Love with 
the Pleasure of being well thought on, you may turn them 15 
as you please, and they will be in Love with all the Ways of 

59. The great Difficulty here is, I imagine, from the 
Folly and Perverseness of Servants, who are hardly to be 
hinder d from crossing herein the Design of the Father and 20 
Mother. Children discountenanc d by their Parents for any 
Fault, find usually a Refuge and Relief in the Caresses of 
those foolish Flatterers, who thereby undo whatever the 
Parents endeavour to establish. When the Father or Mother 
looks sowre on the Child, every Body else should put on 25 
the same Coldness to him, and no body give him Counte 
nance, till Forgiveness ask d, and a Reformation of his 
Fault has set him right again, and restor d him to his for 
mer Credit. If this were constantly observ d, I guess there 
would be little Need of Blows or Chiding : Their own Ease 30 
and Satisfaction would quickly teach Children to court 
Commendation, and avoid doing that which they found 
every Body condemn d and they were sure to suffer for, 
without being chid or beaten. This would teach them 
Modesty and Shame; and they would quickly come to have 35 
a natural Abhorrence for that which they found v made them 
slighted and neglected by every Body. But how this Incon 
venience from Servants is to be remedy d, I must leave to 
Parents Care and Consideration. Only I think it of great 
Importance ; and that they are very happy who can get 40 
discreet People about their Children. 


36 The sense of Shame. [ 60, 61 

60. Frequent Beating or Chiding is therefore carefully 
shame to ^ e avoided: Because this Sort of Correction 
never produces any Good, farther than it serves 
to raise Shame and Abhorrence of the Miscarriage that 
5 brought it on them. And if the greatest Part of the Trouble 
be not the Sense that they have done amiss, and the Ap 
prehension that they have drawn on themselves the just 
Displeasure of their best Friends, the Pain of Whipping 
will work but an imperfect Cure. It only patches up for 

10 the present, and skins it over, but reaches not to the Bottom 
of the Sore; ingenuous Shame, and the Apprehensions of 
Displeasure, are the only true Restraint. These alone 
ought to hold the Reins, and keep the Child in Order. But 
corporal Punishments must necessarily lose that Effect, and 

15 wear out the Sense of S/iame, where they frequently re 
turn. Shame in Children has the same Place that Modesty 
has in Women, which cannot be kept and often transgress d 
against. And as to the Apprehension of Displeasure in the 
Parents, that will come to be very insignificant, if the Marks 

20 of that Displeasure quickly cease, and a few Blows fully 
expiate. Parents should well consider what Faults in their 
Children are weighty enough to deserve the Declaration of 
of their Anger: But when their Displeasure is once declar d 
to a Degree that carries any Punishment with it, they ought 

25 not presently to lay by the Severity of their Brows, but to 
restore their Children to their former Grace with some 
Difficulty, and delay a full Reconciliation, till their Confor 
mity and more than ordinary Merit, make good their 
Amendment. If this be not so order d, Punishment will, 

30 by Familiarity, become a mere Thing of Course, and lose all 
its Influence; offending, being chastised, and then forgiven, 
will be thought as natural and necessary, as Noon, Night, 
and Morning following one another. 

6 1. Concerning Reputation, I shall only remark this 

35 one Thing more of it, that though it be not the 

Reputation. _ . . , . , - ^ . ,.. . 

true Principle and Measure of Virtue, (for that 
is the Knowledge of a Man s Duty, and the Satisfaction it is 
to obey his Maker, in following the Dictates of that Light 
God has given him, with the Hopes of Acceptation and 
40 Reward) yet it is that which comes nearest to it: And being 
the Testimony and Applause that other People s Reason, as 

6 1 63] Praise in public, Blame in private. 37 

it were by a common Consent, gives to virtuous and well- 
order d Actions, it is the proper Guide and Encouragement 
of Children, till they grow able to judge for themselves, and 
to find what is right by their own Reason. 

62. This Consideration may direct Parents how to 5 
manage themselves in reproving and commending their 
Children. The Rebukes and Chiding, which their Faults 
will sometimes make hardly to be avoided, should not only be 
in sober, grave, and unpassionate Words, but also alone and 
in private: But the Commendations Children deserve, they 10 
should receive before others. This doubles the Reward, by 
spreading their Praise; but the Backwardness Parents shew 
in divulging their Faults, will make them set a greater Value 
on their Credit themselves, and teach them to be the more 
careful to preserve the good Opinion of others, whilst they 15 
think they have it : But when being expos d to Shame, by 
publishing their Miscarriages, they give it up for lost, that 
Check upon them is taken off, and they will be the less 
careful to preserve others good Thoughts of them, the more 
they suspect that their Reputation with them is already 20 
blemish d. 

63. But if a right Course be taken with Children, 
there will not be so much need of the Application of the 
common Rewards and Punishments as we imagine, and as 
the general Practice has establish d. For all their innocent 25 
Folly, Playing, and childish Actions, are to be ChildishnesSf 
left perfectly free and unrestrained, as far as they 
can consist with the Respect due to those that are present; 
and that with the greatest Allowance. If these Faults of 
their Age, rather than of the Children themselves, were, as they 30 
should be, left only to Time and Imitation and riper Years 
to cure, Children would escape a great deal of misapply d 
and useless Correction, which either fails to overpower the 
natural Disposition of their Childhood, and so by an ineffec 
tual Familiarity, makes Correction in other necessary Cases 35 
of less Use; or else if it be of Force to restrain the natural 
Gaiety of that Age, it serves only to spoil the Temper both 
of Body and Mind. If the Noise and Bustle of their Play 
prove at any Time inconvenient, or unsuitable to the Place 
or Company they are in, (which can only be where their 40 
Parents are) a Look or a VVord from the Father or Mother, 

38 Practice rather than Precept. [ 63 65 

if they have establish d the Authority they should, will be 
enough either to remove or quiet them for that Time. But 
this gamesome Humour, which is wisely adapted by Nature 
to their Age and Temper, should rather be encourag d to 
5 keep up their Spirits, and improve their Strength and Health, 
than curb d and restrain d; and the chief Art is to make all 
that they have to do, Sport and Play too. 

64. And here give me leave to take Notice of one 
Rula Thing I think a Fault in the ordinary Method 

10 of Education ; and that is, the charging of 

Children s Memories, upon all Occasions, with Rules and 
Precepts, which they often do not understand, and constant 
ly as soon forget as given. If it be some Action you would 
have done, or done otherwise, whenever they forget, or do 

15 it awkwardly, make them do it over and over again, till they 
are perfect ; whereby you will get these two Advantages. 
first, To see whether it be an Action they can do, or is fit 
to be expected of them : For sometimes Children are bid to 
do Things which upon Trial they are found not able to do, 

20 and had need be taught and exercis d in before they are 
requir d to do them. But it is much easier for a Tutor to 
command than to teach. Secondly, Another Thing got by 
it will be this, that by repeating the same Action till it be 
grown habitual in them, the Performance will not depend on 

25 Memory or Reflection, the Concomitant of Prudence and 
Age, and not of Childhood, but will be natural in them. 
Thus bowing to a Gentleman, when he salutes him, and 
looking in his Face, when he speaks to him, is by constant 
Use as natural to a well-bred Man, as breathing; it requires 

30 no Thought, no Reflection. Having this Way cured in 
your Child any Fault, it is cured for ever : And thus one by 
one you may weed them out all, and plant what Habits you 

65. I have seen Parents so heap Rules on their Child- 

35 ren, that it was impossible for the poor little Ones to re 
member a tenth Part of them, much less to observe them. 
However, they were either by Words or Blows corrected lor 
the Breach of those multiply d and often very impertinent 
Precepts. Whence it naturally follow d that the Children 

40 minded not what was said to them, when it was evident to 
them that no Attention they were capable of was sufficient 

65, 66] Few Rules. 39 

to preserve them from Transgression, and the Rebukes 
which follow d it. 

Let therefore your Rules to your Son be as few as possi 
ble, and rather fewer than more than seem absolutely neces 
sary. For if you burden him with many Rules, one of these 5 
two Things must necessarily follow; that either he must be 
very often punish d, which will be of ill Consequence, by 
making Punishment too frequent and familiar; or else you 
must let the Transgressions of some of your Rules go un- 
punish d, whereby they will of course grow contemptible, 10 
and your Authority become cheap to him. Make but few 
Laws, but see they be well observ d when once made. Few 
Years require but few Laws, and as his Age increases, when 
one Rule is by Practice well establish d, you may add another. 

66. But pray remember, Children are not to be taught 15 
by Rules which will be always slipping out of their Memo 
ries. What you think necessary for them to do, settle in 
them by an indispensable Practice, as often as the Occasion 
returns; and if it be possible, make Occasions. 

fni Mi i -rr ^ i 1 1 1 HaDltS. 

This will beget Habits in them, which being 20 

once establish d, operate of themselves easily and naturally, 
without the Assistance of the Memory. But here let me 
give two Cautions, i. The one is, that you keep them to 
the Practice of what you would have grow into a Habit in 
them, by kind Words, and gentle Admonitions, rather as 25 
minding them of what they forget, than by harsh Rebukes 
and Chiding, as if they were wilfully guilty. 2. Another 
Thing you are to take Care of, is, not to endeavour to settle 
too many Habits at once, lest by Variety you confound 
them, and so perfect none. When constant Custom has 3 
made any one Thing easy and natural to em, and they prac 
tise it without Reflection, you may then go on to another. 

This Method of teaching Children by a repeated 
Practice, and the same Action done over and Practice 
over again, under the Eye and Direction of the 35 

Tutor, till they have got the Habit of doing it well, and not 
by relying on Rules trusted to their Memories, has so many 
Advantages, which Way soever we consider it, that I cannot 
but wonder (if ill Customs could be wonder d at in any Thing) 
how it could possibly be so much neglected. I shall name 40 
one more that comes now in my Way. By this Method we 

40 Nature. Affectation. [ 66 

shall see whether what is requir d of him be adapted to his 
Capacity, and any Way suited to the Child s natural Genius 
and Constitution; for that too must be consider d in a right 
Education. We must not hope wholly to change their 
5 original Tempers, nor make the Gay pensive and grave, nor the 
Melancholy sportive, without spoiling them. God has 
stamp d certain Characters upon Men s Minds, which like 
their Shapes, may perhaps be a little mended, but can 
hardly be totally alter d and transform d into the contrary. 

10 He therefore that is about Children should well study 
their Natures and Aptitudes, and see by often Trials what 
Turn they easily take, and what becomes them; observe 
what their native Stock is, how it may be improv d, and what 
it is fit for: He should consider what they want, whether 

1 5 they be capable of having it wrought into them by Industry, 
and incorporated there by Practice; and whether it be worth 
while to endeavour it. For in many Cases, all that we can 
do, or should aim at, is, to make the best of what Nature 
has given, to prevent the Vices and Faults to which such 

20 a Constitution is most inclin d, and give it all the Advantages 
it is capable of. Every one s natural Genius should be 
carry d as far as it could; but to attempt the putting another 
upon him, will be but Labour in vain; and what is so 
plaister d on, will at best sit but untowardly, and have always 

25 hanging to it the Ungracefulness of Constraint and Affecta 

Affectation is not, I confess, an early Fault of Childhood, 

Affectation or tne P r duct of untaught Nature. It is 

of that Sort of Weeds which grow not in the 

30 wild uncultivated Waste, but in Garden-Plots, under the 
negligent Hand or unskilful Care of a Gardener. Manage 
ment and Instruction, and some Sense of the Necessity 
of Breeding, are requisite to make any one capable of Affec 
tation, which endeavours to correct natural Defects, and has 

35 always the laudable Aim of Pleasing, though it always misses 
it; and the more it labours to put on Gracefulness, the 
farther it is from it. For this Reason, it is the more care 
fully to be watch d, because it is the proper Fault of Edu 
cation ; a perverted Education indeed, but such as young 

40 People often fall into, either by their own Mistake, or the 
ill Conduct of those about them. 

66] What is Affectation? 41 

He that will examine wherein that Gracefulness lies, 
which always pleases, will find it arises from that natural 
Coherence which appears between the Thing done and 
such a Temper of Mind as cannot but be approv d of as 
suitable to the Occasion. We cannot but be pleas d with 5 
an humane, friendly, civil Temper, wherever we meet with it. 
A Mind free, and Master of itself and all its Actions, not 
low and narrow, not haughty and insolent, not blemish d 
with any great Defect, is what every one is taken with. The 
Actions which naturally flow from such a well-form d Mind, 10 
please us also, as the genuine Marks of it; and being as it 
were natural Emanations from the Spirit and Disposition 
within, cannot but be easy and unconstrain d. This seems 
to me to be that Beauty which shines through some Men s 
Actions, sets off all that they do, and takes all they come 15 
near; when by a constant Practice, they have fashion d their 
Carriage, and made all those little Expressions of Civility 
and Respect, which Nature or Custom has establish d in 
Conversation, so easy to themselves, that they seem not 
artificial or studied, but naturally to follow from a Sweetness 20 
of Mind and a well-turn d Disposition. 

On the other Side, Affectation is an awkward and forc d 
Imitation of what should be genuine and easy, wanting the 
Beauty that accompanies what is natural ; because there is 
always a Disagreement between the outward Action, and 25 
the Mind within, one of these two Ways : i. Either when 
a Man would outwardly put on a Disposition of Mind, 
which then he really has not, but endeavours by a forc d 
Carriage to make shew of; yet so, that the Constraint he is 
under discovers itself : And thus Men affect sometimes to 30 
appear sad, merry, or kind, when in truth they are not so. 

2. The other is, when they do not endeavour to make 
shew of Dispositions of Mind, which they have not, but to 
express those they have by a Carriage not suited to them : 
And such in Conversation are all constrain d Motions, 35 
Actions, Words, or Looks, which, though design d to shew 
either their Respect or Civility to the Company, or their 
Satisfaction and Easiness in it, are not yet natural nor genu 
ine Marks of the one or the other, but rather of some 
Delect or Mistake within. Imitation of others, without 40 
discerning what is graceful in them, or what is peculiar to 

42 Manners. Dancing. [ 66, 67 

their Characters, often makes a great Part of this. But 
Affectation of all Kinds, whencesoever it proceeds, is always 
offensive; because we naturally hate whatever is counterfeit, 
and condemn those who have nothing better to recommend 
5 themselves by. 

Plain and rough Nature, left to itself, is much better 
than an artificial Ungracefulness, and such study d Ways of 
being illfashion d. The Want of an Accomplishment, or 
some Defect in our Behaviour, coming short of the utmost 

10 Gracefulness, often escapes Observation and Censure. But 
Affectation in any Part of our Carriage is lighting up a 
Candle to our Defects, and never fails to make us be taken 
notice of, either as wanting Sense, or wanting Sincerity. 
This Governors ought the more diligently to look after, 

15 because, as I above observ d, tis an acquird Ugliness, 
owing to mistaken Education, few being guilty of it but 
those who pretend to Breeding, and would not be thought 
ignorant of what is fashionable and becoming in Conversa 
tion; and, if I mistake not, it has often its Rise from the 

20 lazy Admonitions of those who give Rules, and propose 
Examples, without joining Practice with their Instructions 
and making their Pupils repeat the Action in their Sight, 
that they may correct what is indecent or constrain d in it, 
till it be perfected into an habitual and becoming Easiness. 

25 67. Manners, as they call it, about which Children 
Manners are so ^ ten perplex d, and have so many goodly 
Exhortations made them by their wise Maids 
and Governesses, I think, are rather to be learnt by Ex 
ample than Rules ; and then Children, if kept out of ill 

30 Company, will take a Pride to behave themselves prettily, 
after the Fashion of others, perceiving themselves esteem d 
and commended for it. But if by a little Negligence in 
this Part, the Boy should not pull off his Hat, nor make 
Legs very gracefully, a Dancing-master will cure that Defect, 

35 and wipe off all that Plainness of Nature, which the a-la- 

mode People call Clownishness. And since nothing appears 

to me to give Children so much becoming Confidence and 

Behaviour, and so to raise them to the Conversation of 

. those above their Age, as Dancing, I think they 

40 should be taught to dance as soon as they are 

capable of learning it. For tho this consist only in out- 

67] Children and Manners. 43 

ward Gracefulness of Motion, yet, I know not how, it gives 
Children manly Thoughts and Carriage, more than any 
thing. But otherwise, I would not have little Children 
much tormented about Punctilio s or Niceties of Breeding. 

Never trouble your self about those Faults in them, 5 
which you know Age will cure : And therefore want of well- 
fashion d Civility in the Carriage, whilst Civility is not 
wanting in the Mind, (for there you must take care to plant 
it early) should be the Parents least Care, whilst they are 
young. If his tender Mind be fill d with a Veneration for 10 
his Parents and Teachers, which consists in Love and 
Esteem, and a Fear to offend them ; and with Respect and 
good Will to all People; that Respect will of itself teach 
those Ways of expressing it, which he observes most accept 
able. Be sure to keep up in him the Principles of good 15 
Nature and Kindness ; make them as habitual as you can, 
by Credit and Commendation, and the good Things accom 
panying that State : And when they have taken root in his 
Mind, and are settled there by a continued Practice, fear 
not, the Ornaments of Conversation, and the Outside of 20 
fashionable Manners, will come in their due Time ; if when 
they are remov d out of their Maid s Care, they are put 
into the Hands of a well-bred Man to be their Governor. 

Whilst they are very young, any Carelessness is to be 
borne with in Children, that carries not with it the Marks of 25 
Pride or ill Nature ; but those, whenever they appear in any 
Action, are to be corrected immediately by the Ways above- 
mention d. What I have said concerning Manners, I would 
not have so understood, as if I meant that those who have 
the Judgment to do it, should not gently fashion the 30 
Motions and Carriage of Children, when they are very 
young. It would be of great Advantage, if they had People 
about them from their being first able to go, that had the 
Skill, and would take the right Way to do it. That which I 
complain of, is the wrong Course that is usually taken in this 35 
Matter. Children, who were never taught any such Thing 
as Behaviour, are often (especially when Strangers are 
present) chid for having some way or other fail d in good 
Manners, and have thereupon Reproofs and Precepts heap d 
upon them, concerning putting off their Hats, or making of 40 
Legs, &c. Though in this, those concern d pretend to 

44 Manners acquired by Imitation. [ 67, 68 

correct the Child, yet in Truth, for the most Part, it is but 
to cover their own Shame ; and they lay the Blame on 
the poor little Ones, sometimes passionately enough, to 
divert it from themselves, for fear the By-standers should 
5 impute to their Want of Care and Skill the Child s ill 

For, as for the Children themselves, they are never one 
jot better d by such occasional Lectures. They at other 
Times should be shewn what to do, and by reiterated 

10 Actions be fashion d beforehand into the Practice of what 
is fit and becoming, and not told and talk d to do upon the 
Spot, of what they have never been accustom d nor know 
how to do as they should. To hare and rate them thus at 
every turn, is not to teach them, but to vex and torment 

15 them to no purpose. They should be let alone, rather than 
chid for a Fault which is none of theirs, nor is in their 
Power to mend for speaking to. And it were much better 
their natural childish Negligence or Plainness should be left 
to the Care of riper Years, than that they should frequently 

20 have Rebukes misplac d upon them, which neither do nor 
can give them graceful Motions. If their Minds are well- 
dispos d, and principled with inward Civility, a great Part 
of the Roughness which sticks to the Outside for Want of 
better Teaching, Time and Observation will rub off, as they 

25 grow up, if they are bred in good Company; but if in ill, 
all the Rules in the World, all the Correction imaginable, 
will not be able to polish them. For you must take this 
for a certain Truth, that let them have what Instructions 
you will, and ever so learned Lectures of Breeding daily 

30 inculcated into them, that which will most influence their 
Carriage will be the Company they converse with, and the 
Fashion of those about them. Children (nay, and Men 
too) do most by Example. We are all a Sort of Camelions, 
that still take a Tincture from Things near us ; nor is it to 

35 be wonder d at in Children, who better understand what 
they see than what they hear. 

68. I mention d above one great Mischief that came 
Comtan ky Servants to Children, when by their Flat 
teries they take off the Edge and Force of the 

40 Parents Rebukes, and so lessen their Authority : And here 
is another great Inconvenience which Children receive from 

68 7] Dangers from Servants. 45 

the ill Examples which they meet with amongst the meaner 

They are wholly, if possible, to be kept from such 
Conversation; for the Contagion of these ill Precedents, 
both in Civility and Virtue, horribly infects Children, as 5 
often as they come within reach of it. They frequently 
learn from unbred or debauch d Servants such Language, 
untowardly Tricks and Vices, as otherwise they possibly 
would be ignorant of all their Lives. 

69. Tis a hard Matter wholly to prevent this Mischief. 10 
You will have very good luck, if you never have a clownish 
or vicious Servant, and if from them your Children never 
get any Infection : But yet as much must be done towards 
it as can be, and the Children kept as much as may be *in 
the Company of their Parents, and those to whose Care they 1 5 
are committed. To this Purpose, their being in their Pre 
sence should be made easy to them ; they should be 
allow d the Liberties and Freedoms suitable to their Ages, 
and not be held under unnecessary Restraints, when in their 
Parents or Governor s Sight. If it be a Prison to them, tis 20 
no Wonder they should not like it. They must not be 
hinder d from being Children, or from playing, or doing as 
Children, but from doing ill; all other Liberty is to be 
allow d them. Next, to make them in love with the Com 
pany of their Parents, they should receive all their good 25 
Things there, and from their Hands. The Servants should 
be hinder d from making court to them by giving them 
strong Drink, Wine, Fruit, Play-Things, and other such 
Matters, which may make them in love with their Conver 
sation. 30 

70. Having nam d Company, I am almost ready to 
throw away my Pen, and trouble you no farther 

i r-c i i-. i i Company. 

on this Subject: For since that does more than 
all Precepts, Rules and Instructions, methinks tis almost 
wholly in vain to make a long Discourse of other Things, 35 
and to talk of that almost to no Purpose. For you will be 
ready to say, What shall I do with my Son? If I keep him 

* How much the Romans thought the Education of their Children 
a Business that properly belong d to the Parents themselves, see in Sue 
tonius, August. 64. Plutarch in vita Catonis Censoris, Diodorus 
Siculus /. 2, cap. 3. 

46 Home versus School. [ 70 

always at home, he will be in danger to be my young Mas 
ter; and if I send him abroad, how is it possible to keep 
him from the Contagion of Rudeness and Vice, which is 
every where so in Fashion? In my House he will perhaps 
5 be more innocent, but more ignorant too of the World; 
wanting there Change of Company, and being us d con 
stantly to the same Faces, he will, when he comes abroad, 
be a sheepish or conceited Creature. 

I confess, both Sides have their inconveniences. Being 

10 abroad, tis true, will make him bolder, and better able to 
bustle and shift among Boys of his own Age ; and the 
Emulation of School-Fellows often puts Life and Industry 
into young Lads. But till you can find a School, wherein it 
is possible for the Master to look after the Manners of his 

15 Scholars, and can shew as great Effects of his Care of form 
ing their Minds to Virtue, and their Carriage to good 
Breeding, as of forming their Tongues to the learned Lan 
guages, you must confess, that you have a strange Value 
for Words, when preferring the Languages of the antient 

20 Greeks and Romans to that which made em such brave 
Men, you think it worth while to hazard your Son s Inno 
cence and Virtue for a little Greek and Latin. For, as for 
that Boldness and Spirit which Lads get amongst their Play- 
Fellows at School, it has ordinarily such a Mixture of Rude- 

25 ness and ill-turn d Confidence, that those misbecoming and 
disingenuous Ways of shifting in the World must be unlearnt, 
and all the Tincture wash d out again, to make W T ay for 
better Principles, and such Manners as make a truly worthy 
Man. He that considers how diametrically opposite the 

30 Skill of living well, and managing, as a Man should do, his 
Affairs in the World, is to that Mal-pertness, Tricking, or 
Violence learnt amongst School-Boys, will think the Faults 
of a privater Education infinitely to be preferr d to such 
Improvements, and will take Care to preserve his Child s 

35 Innocence and Modesty at Home, as being nearer of Kin, 
and more in the Way of those Qualities which make an 
useful and able Man. Nor does any one find, or so much 
as suspect, that that Retirement and Bashfulness which 
their Daughters are brought up in, makes them less know- 

40 ing, or less able Women. Conversation, when they come 
into the World, soon gives them a becoming Assurance; and 

70] Bashfulness better than Vice. 47 

whatsoever, beyond that, there is of rough and boisterous, 
may in Men be very well spar d too; for Courage and 
Steadiness, as I take it, lie not in Roughness and ill 

Virtue is harder to be got, than a Knowledge of the 5 
World ; and if lost in a young Man, is seldom recover d. 
Sheepishness and Ignorance of the World, the Faults im 
puted to a private Education, are neither the necessary 
Consequences of being bred at Home, nor if they were, are 
they incurable Evils. Vice is the more stubborn, as well as 10 
the more dangerous Evil of the two; and therefore in the 
first Place to be fenced against. If that sheepish Softness 
which often enervates those who are bred like Fondlings at 
Home, be carefully to be avoided, it is principally so for 
Virtue s sake; for fear lest such a yielding Temper should 15 
be too susceptible of vicious Impressions, and expose the 
Novice too easily to be corrupted. A young Man before 
he leaves the Shelter of his Father s House, and the Guard 
of a Tutor, should be fortify d with Resolution, and made 
acquainted with Men, to secure his Virtues, lest he should 20 
be led into some ruinous Course, or fatal Precipice, before 
he is sufficiently acquainted with the Dangers of Conversa 
tion, and has Steadiness enough not to yield to every 
Temptation. Were it not for this, a young Man s Bashful- 
ness and Ignorance in the World, would not so much need 25 
an early Care. Conversation would cure it in a great 
Measure; or if that will not do it early enough, it is only a 
stronger Reason for a good Tutor at Home. For if Pains 
be to be taken to give him a manly Air and Assurance be 
times, it is chiefly as a Fence to his Virtue when he goes 30 
into the World under his own Conduct. 

It is preposterous therefore to sacrifice his Innocency to 
the attaining of Confidence and some little Skill of bustling 
for himself among others, by his Conversation with illbred 
and vicious Boys; when the chief Use of that Sturdiness, 35 
and standing upon his own Legs, is only for the Preserva 
tion of his Virtue. For if Confidence or Cunning come 
once to mix with Vice, and support his Miscarriages, he is 
only the surer lost; and you must undo again, and strip 
him of that he has got from his Companions, or give him up 40 
to Ruin. Boys will unavoidably be taught Assurance by 

48 The Schoolmaster powerless for conduct. [ 70 

Conversation with Men, when they are brought into it; and 
that is Time enough. Modesty and Submission, till then, 
better fits them for Instruction; and therefore there needs 
not any great Care to stock them with Confidence before- 
5 hand. That which requires most Time, Pains, and Assi 
duity, is, to work into them the Principles and Practice of 
Virtue and good Breeding. This is the Seasoning they 
should be prepar d with, so as not easily to be got out again. 
This they had need to be well provided with; for Conver- 

10 sation, when they come into the World, will add to their 

Knowledge and Assurance, but be too apt to take from 

their Virtue; which therefore they ought to be plentifully 

stor d with, and have that Tincture sunk deep into them. 

How they should be fitted for Conversation, and enter d 

15 into the World, when they are ripe for it, we shall consider 
in another Place. But how any one s being put into a 
mix d Herd of unruly Boys, and there learning to wrangle at 
Trap, or rook at Span-farthing, fits him for civil Conversa 
tion or Business, I do not see. And what Qualities are 

20 ordinarily to be got from such a Troop of Play-Fellows as 
Schools usually assemble together from Parents of all 
Kinds, that a Father should so much covet, is hard to divine. 
I am sure, he who is able to be at the Charge of a Tutor at 
Home, may there give his Son a more genteel Carriage, 

2 5 more manly Thoughts, and a Sense of what is worthy and 
becoming, with a greater Proficiency in Learning into the 
Bargain, and ripen him up sooner into a Man, than any at 
School can do. Not that I blame the Schoolmaster in this, 
or think it to be laid to his Charge. The Difference is 

30 great between two or three Pupils in the same House, and 
three or four Score Boys lodg d up and down: For let the 
Master s Industry and Skill be never so great, it is impossi 
ble he should have fifty or an hundred Scholars under his 
Eye, any longer than they are in the School together: Nor 

35 can it be expected, that he should instruct them successfully 
in any thing but their Books ; the forming of their Minds 
and Manners requiring a constant Attention, and particular 
Application to every single Boy, which is impossible in a 
numerous Flock, and would be wholly in vain (could he 

40 have Time to study and correct every one s particular 
Defects and wrong Inclinations) when the Lad was to be 

70] Manners best learnt at home. 49 

left to himself, or the prevailing Infection of his Fellows, 
the greatest Part of the four and twenty Hours. 

But Fathers, observing that Fortune is often most suc 
cessfully courted by bold and bustling Men, are glad to see 
their Sons pert and forward betimes ; take it for an happy 5 
Omen that they will be thriving Men, and look on the 
Tricks they play their School-Fellows, or learn from them, 
as a Proficiency in the Art of Living, and making their Way 
through the World. But I must take the Liberty to say, 
that he that lays the Foundation of his Son s Fortune in 10 
Virtue and good Breeding, takes the only sure and warrant 
able Way. And tis not the Waggeries or Cheats practis d 
amongst School-Boys, tis not their Roughness one to an 
other, nor the well-laid Plots of robbing an Orchard together, 
that make an able Man; but the Principles of Justice, 15 
Generosity, and Sobriety, join d with Observation and In 
dustry, Qualities which I judge School-Boys do not learn 
much of one another. And if a young Gentleman bred at 
Home, be not taught more of them than he could learn at 
School, his Father has made a very ill Choice of a Tutor. 20 
Take a Boy from the Top of a Grammar-School, and one of 
the same Age bred as he should be in his Father s Family, 
and bring them into good Company together, and then see 
which of the two will have the more manly Carriage, and 
address himself with the more becoming Assurance to 25 
Strangers. Here I imagine the School-Boy s Confidence 
will either fail or discredit him ; and if it be such as fits him 
only for the Conversation of Boys, he were better to be 
without it. 

Vice, if we may believe the general Complaint, ripens 3 
so fast now-a-days, and runs up to Seed so early in young 
People, that it is impossible to keep a Lad from the spread 
ing Contagion, if you will venture him abroad in the Herd, 
and trust to Chance or his own Inclination for the Choice 
of his Company at School. By what Fate Vice has so 35 
thriven amongst us these Years past, and by what Hands it 
has been nurs d up into so uncontroul d a Dominion, I shall 
leave to others to enquire. I wish that those who complain 
of the great decay of Christian Piety and Virtue every where, 
and of Learning and acquir d Improvements in the Gentry 40 
of this Generation, would consider how to retrieve them in 

50 Prevailing Dissoluteness and its cure. [ 70 

the next. This I am sure, that if the Foundation of it be 
not laid in the Education and Principling of the Youth, all 
other Endeavours will be in vain. And if the Innocence, 
Sobriety, and Industry of those who are coming up, be not 
5 taken care of and preserv d, twill be ridiculous to expect, 
that those who are to succeed next on the Stage, should 
abound in that Virtue, Ability, and Learning, which has 
hitherto made England considerable in the World. I was 
going to add Courage too, though it has been look d on as 

10 the natural Inheritance of Englishmen. What has been 
talk d of some late Actions at Sea, of a Kind unknown to 
our Ancestors, gives me Occasion to say, that Debauchery 
sinks the Courage of Men; and when Dissoluteness has 
eaten out the Sense of true Honour, Bravery seldom stays 

15 long after it. And I think it impossible to find an Instance 
of any Nation, however renown d for their Valour, who ever 
kept their Credit in Arms, or made themselves redoubtable 
amongst their Neighbours, after Corruption had once broke 
through and dissolv d the Restraint of Discipline, and Vice 

20 was grown to such an Head, that it durst shew itself bare- 
fac d without being out of Countenance. 

J Tis Virtue then, direct Virtue, which is the hard and 
valuable Part to be aim d at in Education, and 

Virtue. . , 1-1 r 

not a torward Pertness, or any little Arts of 
25 Shifting. All other Considerations and Accomplishments 
should give way and be postpon d to this. This is the 
solid and substantial Good which Tutors should not only 
read Lectures, and talk of, but the Labour and Art of Edu 
cation should furnish the Mind with, and fasten there, and 
30 never cease till the young Man had a true Relish of it, and 
plac d his Strength, his Glory, and his Pleasure in it. 

The more this advances, the easier Way will be made 
for other Accomplishments in their Turns. For 


he that is brought to submit to Virtue, will 

35 not be refractory, or resty, in any Thing that becomes him; 

and thereiore I cannot but prefer breeding of a young 

Gentleman at home in his Father s Sight, under a good 

Governour, as much the best and safest Way to this great 

and main End of Education, when it can be had, and is 

40 order d as it should be. Gentlemen s Houses are seldom 

without Variety of Company: They should use their Sons 

70, TL\ Example. Pueris reverentia. 51 

to all the strange Faces that come there, and engage them 
in Conversation with Men of Parts and Breeding, as soon as 
they are capable of it. And why those who live in the 
Country should not take them with them, when they make 
Visits of Civility to their Neighbours, I know not. This I 5 
am sure, a Father that breeds his Son at home, has the 
Opportunity to have him more in his own Company, and 
there give him what Encouragement he thinks fit, and can 
keep him better from the Taint of Servants and the meaner 
Sort of People, than is possible to be done abroad. But 10 
what shall be resolv d in the Case, must in great Measure be 
left to the Parents, to be determin d by their Circumstances 
and Conveniences; only I think it the worst sort of good 
Husbandry for a Father not to strain himself a little for his 
Son s Breeding; which, let his Condition be what it will, is 15 
the best Portion he can leave him. But if, after all, it shall 
be thought by some, that the Breeding at Home has too 
little Company, and that at ordinary Schools, not such as it 
should be for a young Gentleman, I think there might be 
Ways found out to avoid the Inconveniences on the one 20 
Side and the other. 

71. Having under Consideration how great the Influ 
ence of Company is, and how prone we are all, especi 
ally Children, to Imitation; I must here take the Liberty to 
mind Parents of this one Thing, viz. That he that will 25 
have his Son have a Respect for him and his Orders, must 
himself have a great Reverence for his Son. Maxima 
debetur Pueris reverentia. You must do nothing 

,-,. , i IT i Example. 

before him, which you would not have him imi 
tate. If any Thing escape you, which you would have pass 30 
for a Fault in him, he will be sure to shelter himself under 
your Example, and shelter himself so as that it will not 
be easy to come at him, to correct it in him the right Way. 
If you punish him for what he sees you practise yourself, he 
will not think that Severity to proceed from Kindness in 35 
you, careful to amend a Fault in him; but will be apt to 
interpret it the Peevishness and arbitrary Imperiousness of 
a Father, who, without any Ground for it, would deny his 
Son the Liberty and Pleasures he takes himself. Or if you 
assume to yourself the Liberty you have taken, as a Privi- 40 
lege belonging to riper Years, to which a Child must not 


52 Lessons should not be Tasks. [ 71 73 

aspire, you do but add new force to your Example, and 
recommend the Action the more powerfully to him. For 
you must always remember, that Children affect to be Men 
earlier than is thought; and they love Breeches, not for 
5 their Cut or Ease, but because the having them is a Mark 
or Step towards Manhood. What I say of the Father s 
Carriage before his Children, must extend itself to all those 
who have any Authority over them, or for whom he would 
have them have any Respect. 

10 72. But to return to the Business of Rewards and 

. . Punishments. All the Actions of Childishness, 

and unfashionable Carriage, and whatever Time 

and Age will of itself be sure to reform, being (as I have 

said) exempt from the Discipline of the Rod, there will not 

15 be so much need of beating Children as is generally made 
use of. To which if we add learning to read, write, dance, 
foreign Language, ore. as under the same Privilege, there 
will be but very rarely an Occasion for Blows or Force in an 
ingenuous Education. The right Way to teach them those 

20 Things, is, to give them a Liking and Inclination to what 
you propose to them to be learn d, and that will engage 
their Industry and Application. This I think no hard 
Matter to do, if Children be handled as they should be, and 
the Rewards and Punishments above-mention d be carefully 

25 apply d, and with them these few Rules observ d in the 
Method of instructing them. 

73. i. None of the Things they are to learn, should 
ever be made a Burthen to them, or impos d on 
them as a Task. Whatever is so propos d, pre- 
30 sently becomes irksome; the Mind takes an Aversion to it, 
though before it were a Thing of Delight or Indifferency. 
Let a Child but be order d to whip his Top at a certain Time 
every Day, whether he has or has not a Mind to it; let this 
be but requir d of him as a Duty, wherein he must spend so 

35 many Hours Morning and Afternoon, and see whether he 
will not soon be weary of any Play at this Rate. Is it not 
so with grown Men? What they do chearfully of themselves, 
do they not presently grow sick 01, and can no more endure, 
as soon as they find it is expected of them as a Duty? 

40 Children have as much a Mind to shew that they are free, 
that their own good Actions come from themselves, that 

73 74] Seasons of Aptitude and Inclination. 53 

they are absolute and independent, as any of the proudest 
of you grown Men, think of them as you please. 

74. 2. As a Consequence of this, they should seldom 
be put about doing even those Things you have 

T ,. . . . . D / . Disposition. 

got an Inclination in them to, but when they 5 

have a Mind and Disposition to it. He that loves Reading, 
Writing, Musick, &c. finds yet in himself certain Seasons 
wherein those Things have no Relish to him; and if at that 
Time he forces himself to it, he only pothers and wearies 
himself to no purpose. So it is with Children. This Change 10 
of Temper should be carefully observ d in them, and the 
favourable Seasons of Aptitude and Inclination be heedfully 
laid hold of: And if they are not often enough forward of 
themselves, a good Disposition should be talk d into them, 
before they be set upon any thing. This I think no hard 15 
Matter for a discreet Tutor to do, who has study d his 
Pupil s Temper, and will be at a little Pains to fill his Head 
with suitable Ideas, such as may make him in Love with the 
present Business. By this Means a great deal of Time and 
Tiring would be sav d: For a Child will learn three times 20 
as much when he is in Tune, as he will with double the 
Time and Pains when he goes awkwardly or is dragg d un 
willingly to it. If this were minded as it should, Children 
might be permitted to weary themselves with Play, and yet 
have Time enough to learn what is suited to the Capacity of 25 
each Age. But no such Thing is consider d in the ordinary 
Way of Education, nor can it well be. That rough Disci 
pline of the Rod is built upon other Principles, has no 
Attraction in it, regards not what Humour Children are in, 
nor looks after favourable Seasons of Inclination. And 30 
indeed it would be ridiculous, when Compulsion and Blows 
have rais d an Aversion in the Child to his Task, to expect 
he should freely of his own accord leave his Play, and with 
Pleasure court the Occasions of Learning; whereas, were 
Matters order d right, learning anything they should be 35 
taught might be made as much a Recreation to their Play, 
as their Play is to their Learning. The Pains are equal on 
both Sides. Nor is it that which troubles them ; for they 
love to be busy, and the Change and Variety is that which 
naturally delights them. The only Odds is, in that which 40 

54 Mind must gain self-mastery. [ 74, 75 

we call Play they act at Liberty, and employ their Pains 
(whereof you may observe them never sparing) freely; but 
what they are to learn is forc d upon them, they are call d, 
compell d, and driven to it. This is that, that at first En- 
5 trance balks and cools them; they want their Liberty. Get 
them but to ask their Tutor to teach them, as they do often 
their Play-Fellows, instead of his calling upon them to learn, 
and they being satisfy d that they act as freely in this as 
they do in other Things, they will go on with as much 

10 Pleasure in it, and it will not differ from their other Sports 
and Play. By these Ways, carefully pursu d, a Child may 
be brought to desire to be taught any thing you have a 
Mind he should learn. The hardest Part, I confess, is with 
the first or eldest; but when once he is set right, it is easy 

15 by him to lead the rest whither one will. 

75. Though it be past doubt, that the fittest Time for 
Children to learn any Thing, is, when their Minds are in 
Time, and well disposed to it ; when neither Flagging of 
Spirit, nor Intentness of Thought upon something else, 

20 makes them awkward and averse ; yet two Things are to be 
taken care of: i. That these Seasons either not being 
warily observ d, and laid hold on as often as they return, 
or else, not returning as often as they should, the Improve 
ment of the Child be not thereby neglected, and so he be 

25 let grow into an habitual Idleness, and confirm d in this 
Indisposition : 2. That though other Things are ill learn d, 
when the Mind is either indispos d, or otherwise taken up ; 
yet it is of great Moment, and worth our Endeavours, to 
teach the Mind to get the Mastery over itself, and to be 

30 able, upon Choice, to take itself off from the hot Pursuit of 
one Thing, and set itself upon another with Facility and 
Delight, or at any Time to shake off its Sluggishness, and 
vigorously employ itself about what Reason, or the Advice 
of another shall direct. This is to be done in Children, by 

35 trying them sometimes, when they are by Laziness unbent, 
or by Avocation bent another Way, and endeavouring to 
make them buckle to the Thing propos d. If by this 
Means the Mind can get an habitual Dominion over itself, 
lay by Ideas or Business as Occasion requires, and betake 

40 itself to new and less acceptable Employments without 

75> 76] How learning is made displeasing. 55 

Reluctancy or Discomposure, it will be an Advantage of 
more Consequence than Latin or Logick or most of those 
Things Children are usually requir d to learn. 

76. Children being more active and busy in that Age, 
than in any other Part of their Life, and being . 5 

j-rr mi i Compulsion. 

indifferent to any Thing they can do, so they 
may be but doing, Dancing and Scotch-hoppers would be the 
same Thing to them, were the Encouragements and Dis 
couragements equal. But to Things we would have them 
learn, the great and only Discouragement I can observe, is, 10 
that they are call d to it, tis made their Business, they are 
teazd and chid about it, and do it with Trembling and 
Apprehension ; or, when they come willingly to it, are kept 
too long at it, till they are quite tir d : All which intrenches 
too much on that natural Freedom they extremely affect. 15 
And it is that Liberty alone which gives the true Relish 
and Delight to their ordinary Play-Games. Turn the 
Tables, and you will find they will soon change their Appli 
cation ; especially if they see the Examples of others 
whom they esteem and think above themselves. And if 20 
the Things which they observe others to do, be order d so, 
that they insinuate themselves into them as the Privilege 
of an Age or Condition above theirs ; then Ambition, and 
the Desire still to get forward and higher, and to be like 
those above them, will set them on work, and make them 25 
go on with Vigour and Pleasure ; Pleasure in what they 
have begun by their own Desire, in which Way the Enjoy 
ment of their dearly beloved Freedom will be no small 
Encouragement to them. To all which, if there be added 
the Satisfaction of Credit and Reputation, I am apt to 30 
think there will need no other Spur to excite their Applica 
tion and Assiduity, as much as is necessary. I confess, 
there needs Patience and Skill, Gentleness and Attention, 
and a prudent Conduct to attain this at first But why 
have you a Tutor, if there needed no Pains? But when 35 
this is once establish d. all the rest will follow, more easily 
than in any more severe and imperious Discipline. And 
I think it no hard Matter to gain this Point ; I am sure it 
will not be, where Children have no ill Examples set before 
them. The great Danger therefore, I apprehend, is only 40 
trom Servants, and other ill-order d Children, or such other 

56 Against passionate Chiding. [ 76 78 

vicious or foolish People, who spoil Children both by the 
ill Pattern they set before them in their own ill Manners, 
and by giving them together the two Things they should 
never have at once; I mean vicious Pleasures and Com- 
5 mendation. 

77. As Children should very seldom be corrected by 
Ch - di ^ Blows, so I think frequent, and especially pas 
sionate Chiding of almost as ill Consequence. 
It lessens the Authority of the Parents, and the Respect 

10 of the Child ; for I bid you still remember, they distinguish 
early betwixt Passion and Reason : And as they cannot but 
have a Reverence for what comes from the latter, so they 
quickly grow into a Contempt of the former ; or if it causes 
a present Terror, yet it soon wears off, and natural Inclina- 

15 tion will easily learn to slight such Scare-crows which make 
a Noise, but are not animated by Reason. Children being 
to be restrain d by the Parents only in vicious (which, in 
their tender Years, are only a few) Things, a Look or Nod 
only ought to correct them when they do amiss ; or, if 

20 Words are sometimes to be us d, they ought to be grave, 
kind, and sober, representing the 111 or Unbecomingness of 
the Faults, rather than a hasty Rating of the Child for it ; 
which makes him not sufficiently distinguish, whether your 
Dislike be not more directed to him than his Fault. Pas- 

25 sionate Chiding usually carries rough and ill Language with 
it, which has this farther ill Effect, that it teaches and jus 
tifies it in Children : And the Names that their Parents or 
Praeceptors give them, they will not be asham d or backward 
to bestow on others, having so good Authority for the Use 

30 of them. 

78. I forsee here it will be objected to me, What 

oistinac tnen wu ^ vou nave Children never beaten nor 

chid for any Fault? This will be to let loose 

the Reins to all Kind of Disorder. Not so much, as is 

35 imagin d, if a right Course has been taken in the first 
Seasoning of their Minds, and implanting that Awe of their 
Parents above-mentioned. For Beating, by constant Obser 
vation, is found to do little good, where the Smart of it is 
all the Punishment is fear d or felt in it ; for the Influence 

40 of that quickly wears out, with the Memory of it. But yet 
there is one, and but one Fault, for which, I think Children 

78] Obstinacy needs the Rod. 57 

should be beaten, and that is, Obstinacy or Rebellion. And 
in this too, I would have it order d so, if it can be, that the 
Shame of the Whipping, and not the Pain, should be the L 
greatest Part of the Punishment. Shame of doing amiss^- 
and deserving Chastisement, is the only true Restraint 5 
belonging to Virtue. The Smart of the Rod, if Shame 
accompanies it not, soon ceases, and is forgotten, and will 
quickly by Use lose its Terror. I have known the Children 
of a Person of Quality kept in Awe by the Fear of having 
their Shoes pull d off, as much as others by Apprehensions 10 
of a Rod hanging over them. Some such Punishment I 
think better than Beating ; for tis Shame of the Fault, and 
the Disgrace that attends it, that they should stand in Fear 
of, rather than Pain, if you would have them have a Temper 
truly ingenuous. But Stubbornness, and an obstinate Disobe- 15 
dience, must be master d with Force and Blows; for this 
there is no other Remedy. Whatever particular Action 
you bid him do, or forbear, you must be sure to see your 
self obey d ; no Quarter in this Case, no Resistance : For 
when once it comes to be a Trial of Skill, a Contest for 20 
Mastery betwixt you, as it is if you command and he 
refuses, you must be sure to carry it, whatever Blows it 
costs, if a Nod or Words will not prevail ; unless, for ever 
after, you intend to live in Obedience to your Son. A 
prudent and kind Mother of my Acquaintance, was, on 25 
such an Occasion, forc d to whip her little Daughter, at her 
first coming home from Nurse, eight Times successively the 
same Morning, before she could master her Stubbornness, 
and obtain a Compliance in a very easy and indifferent 
Matter. If she had left off sooner, and stopp d at the 30 
seventh Whipping, she had spoil d the Child for ever, and, 
by her unpre vailing Blows, only confirm d her Refractoriness, 
very hardly afterwards to be cur d : But wisely persisting till 
she had bent her Mind, and suppled her Will, the only 
End of Correction and Chastisement, she establish d her 35 
Authority thoroughly in the very first Occasions, and had 
ever after a very ready Compliance and Obedience in all 
Things from her Daughter ; for as this was the first Time, 
so I think it was the last too she ever struck her. 

The Pain of the Rod, the first Occasion that requires it, 40 
continu d and increas d, without leaving off till it has 

58 The Rod for Stubbornness only. [ 78 

throughly prevail d, should first bend the Mind, and settle 
the Parent s Authority; and then Gravity, mix d with Kind 
ness, should for ever after keep it. 

This, if well reflected on, would make People more wary 
5 in the Use of the Rod and the Cudgel, and keep them from 
being so apt to think Beating the safe and universal Remedy 
to be apply d at random on all Occasions. This is certain, 
however, if it does no Good, it does great Harm; if it 
reaches not the Mind, and makes not the Will supple, it 

10 hardens the Offender; and whatever Pain he has suffer d for 
it, it does but endear him to his beloved Stubbornness, which 
has got him this Time the Victory, and prepares him to 
contest, and hope for it for the future. Thus I doubt not 
but by ill-order d Correction many have been taught to be 

15 obstinate and refractory who otherwise would have been 
very pliant and tractable. For if you punish a Child so, as 
if it were only to revenge the past Fault, which has rais d 
your Choler, what Operation can this have upon his Mind, 
which is the Part to be amended? If there were no sturdy 

20 Humour or Wilfulness mix d with his Fault, there was no 
thing in it that requir d the Severity of Blows. A kind or 
grave Admonition is enough to remedy the Slips of Frailty, 
Forgetfulness, or Inadvertency, and is as much as they will 
stand in need of. But if there were a Perverseness in the 

25 Will, if it were a design d, resolv d Disobedience, the Punish 
ment is not to be measur d by the Greatness or Smallness 
of the Matter wherein it appear d, but by the Opposition it 
carries, and stands in, to that Respect and Submission is 
due to the Father s Orders; which must always be rigorously 

30 exacted, and the Blows by Pauses laid on, till they reach 
the Mind, and you perceive the Signs of a true Sorrow, 
Shame, and Purpose of Obedience. 

This, I confess, requires something more than setting 
Children a Task, and whipping them without any more a- 

35 do if it be not done, and done to our Fancy. This requires 
Care, Attention, Observation, and a nice Study of Children s 
Tempers, and weighing their Faults well, before we come to 
this Sort of Punishment. But is not that better than always 
to have the Rod in Hand as the only Instrument of Go- 

40 vernment? And by frequent Use of it on all Occasions, 
misapply and render inefficacious this last and useful Re- 

73 8o] Faults not of the Will. 59 

medy, where there is need of it? For what else can be 
expected, when it is promiscuously us d upon every little 
Slip? When a Mistake in Concordance, or a wrong Position 
in Verse, shall have the Severity of the Lash, in a well-tem- 
per d and industrious Lad, as surely as a wilful Crime in an 5 
obstinate and perverse Offender; how can such a Way of 
Correction be expected to do Good on the Mind, and set 
that right? Which is the only Thing to be look d after; and 
when set Right, brings all the rest that you can desire along 
with it. 10 

79. Where a wrong Bent of the Will wants not 
Amendment, there can be no need of Blows. All other 
Faults, where the Mind is rightly dispos d, and refuses not 
the Government and Authority of the Father or Tutor, are 
but Mistakes, and may often be overlook d; or when they 15 
are taken Notice of, need no other but the gentle Remedies 
of Advice, Direction, and Reproof, till the repeated and 
wilful Neglect of those, shews the Fault to be in the Mind, 
and that a manifest Perverseness of the Will lies at the Root 
of their Disobedience. But whenever Obstinacy, which is 20 
an open Defiance, appears, that cannot be wink d at or 
neglected, but must, in the first Instance, be subdu d and 
master d; only Care must be had, that we mistake not, and 
we must be sure it is Obstinacy and nothing else. 

80. But since the Occasions of Punishment, especi- 25 
ally Beating, are as much to be avoided as may be, I think 
it should not be often brought to this Point. If the Awe I 
spoke of be once got, a Look will be sufficient in most 
Cases. Nor indeed should the same Carriage, Seriousness, 
or Application be expected from young Children as from 30 
those of riper Growth. They must be permitted, as I said, 
the foolish and childish Actions suitable to their Years, 
without taking Notice of them. Inadvertency, Carelessness, 
and Gayety, is the Character of that Age. I think the Se 
verity I spoke of is not to extend itself to such unseasonable 35 
Restraints. Nor is that hastily to be interpreted Obstinacy 
or Wilfulness, which is the natural Product of their Age or 
Temper. In such Miscarriages they are to be assisted, and 
help d towards an Amendment, as weak People under a 
natural Infirmity; which, though they are warn d of, yet 40 
every Relapse must not be counted a perfect Neglect, and 

60 Appeal to Reason. [ 80, 81 

they presently treated as obstinate. Faults of Frailty, as 
they should never be neglected, or let pass without minding, 
so, unless the Will mix with them, they should never be 
exaggerated, or very sharply reprov d; but with a gentle 
5 Hand set right, as Time and Age permit. By this Means, 
Children will come to see what tis in any Miscarriage that 
is chiefly offensive, and so learn to avoid it. This will en 
courage them to keep their Wills right; which is the great 
Business, when they find that it preserves them from any 

10 great Displeasure, and that in all their other Failings they 
meet with the kind Concern and Help, rather than the 
Anger and passionate Reproaches of their Tutor and Pa 
rents. Keep them from Vice and vicious Dispositions, and 
such a Kind of Behaviour in general will come with every 

15 degree of their Age, as is suitable to that Age and the 
Company they ordinarily converse with; and as they grow 
in Years, they will grow in Attention and Application. But 
that your Words may always carry Weight and Authority 
with them, if it shall happen, upon any Occasion, that you 

20 bid him leave off the doing of any even childish Things, 
you must be sure to carry the Point, and not let him have 
the Mastery. But yet, I say, I would have the Father 
seldom interpose his Authority and Command in these 
Cases, or in any other, but such as have a Tendency to 

25 vicious Habits. I think there are better Ways of prevailing 
with them: And a gentle Persuasion in Reasoning, (when 
the first Point of Submission to your Will is got) will most 
Times do much better. 

8 1. It will perhaps be wonder d, that I mention Reason- 

T.Q ins: with Children; and yet I cannot but think 

* Keasontrtsr. , . TTT .. , ,. . . ,, , 

that the true Way of dealing with them. They 
understand it as early as they do Language; and, it I mis- 
observe not, they love to be treated as rational Creatures, 
sooner than is imagin d. Tis a Pride should be cherish d 

35 in them, and, as much as can be, made the greatest Instru 
ment to turn them by. 

But when I talk of Reasoning, I do not intend any other 
but such as is suited to the Child s Capacity and Apprehen 
sion. No body can think a Boy of three or seven Years 

40 old should be argu d with as a grown Man. Long Dis 
courses, and Philosophical Reasonings, at best, amaze and 

8i, 82] Reason. Examples. 61 

confound, but do not instruct Children. When I say, 
therefore, v hat they must be treated as rational Creatures, I 
mean, that you should make them sensible, by the Mildness 
of your Carriage, and the Composure even in your Correc 
tion of them, that what you do is reasonable in you, and 5 
useful and necessary for them; and that it is not out of 
Caprichio, Passion or Fancy, that you command or forbid 
them any thing. This they are capable of understanding; 
and there is no Virtue they should be excited to, nor Fault 
they should be kept from, which I do not think they may be 10 
convinced of; but it must be by such Reasons as their Age 
and Understanding are capable of, and those propos d always 
in very few and plain Words. The Foundations on which 
several Duties are built, and the Fountains of Right and 
Wrong from which they spring, are not perhaps easily to be 15 
let into the Minds of grown Men, not us d to abstract their 
Thoughts from common receiv d Opinions. Much less are 
Children capable of Reasonings from remote Principles. 
They cannot conceive the Force of long Deductions. The 
Reasons that move them must be obvious, and level to their 20 
Thoughts, and such as may (if I may so say) be felt and 
touch d. But yet, if their Age, Temper, and Inclination be 
consider^, there will never want such Motives as may be 
sufficient to convince them. If there be no other more 
particular, yet these will always be intelligible, and of Force, 25 
to deter them from any Fault fit to be taken Notice of in 
them, (viz.) That it will be a Discredit and Disgrace to them, 
and displease you. 

82. But of all the Ways whereby Children are to be 
instructed, and their Manners formed, the plain- -?o 

, . . . r _ Examples. 

est, easiest, and most efficacious, is, to set before 
their Eyes the Examples of those Things you would have them 
do, or avoid ; which, when they are pointed out to them, in the 
Practice of Persons within their Knowledge, with some Re 
flections on their Beauty and Unbecomingness, are of more 35 
Force to draw or deter their Imitation, than any Discourses 
which can be made to them. Virtues and Vices can by no 
Words be so plainly set before their Understandings as the 
Actions of other Men will shew them, when you direct their 
Observation, and bid them view this or that good or bad 40 
Quality in their Practice. And the Beauty or Uncomeliness 

62 Rules for the Rod. [ 8284 

of many Things, in good and ill Breeding, will be better 
learnt, and make deeper Impressions on them, in the 
Examples of others, than from any Rules or Instructions 
can be given about them. 

5 This is a Method to be us d, not only whilst they are 
young, but to be continu d even as long as they shall be 
under another s Tuition or Conduct ; nay, I know not 
whether it be not the best Way to be us d by a Father, as 
long as he shall think fit, on any Occasion, to reform any 

10 Thing he wishes mended in his Son; nothing sinking so 
gently, and so deep, into Men s Minds, as Example. And 
what 111 they either overlook or indulge in themselves, they 
cannot but dislike and be asham d of, when it is set before 
them in another. 

15 83. It may be doubted, concerning Whipping, when, 
as the last Remedy, it comes to be necessary, 
at what Times, and by whom it should be 
done ; whether presently upon the committing the Fault, 
whilst it is yet fresh and hot ; and whether Parents themselves 

20 should beat their Children. As to the first, I think it should 
not be done presently, lest Passion mingle with it ; and so, 
though it exceed the just Proportion, yet it lose of its due 
Weight : For even Children discern when we do Things in 

O O 

Passion. But, as I said before, that has most Weight with 

25 them, that appears sedately to come from their Parents 
Reason ; and they are not without this Distinction. Next, 
if you have any discreet Servant capable of it, and has the 
Place of governing your Child, (for if you have a Tutor, 
there is no Doubt) I think it is best the Smart should come 

30 immediately from another s Hand, though by the Parent s 
Order, who should see it done; whereby the Parent s Autho 
rity will be preserv d, and the Child s Aversion, for the Pain 
it suffers, rather to be turn d on the Person that immediately 
inflicts. For I would have a Fatlier seldom strike his Child, 

35 but upon very urgent Necessity, and as the last Remedy; 
and then perhaps it will be fit to do it so that the Child 
should not quickly forget it. 

84. But, as I said before, Beating is the worst, and 
therefore the last Means to be us d in the Correction of 

40 Children, and that only in Cases of Extremity, after all 
gentle Ways have been try d, and prov d unsuccessful; 

84] Punishments come of neglect. 63 

which, if well observ d, there will be very seldom any Need 
of Blows. For, it not being to be imagin d that a Child will 
often, if ever, dispute his Father s present Command in any 
particular Instance, and the Father not interposing his abso 
lute Authority, in peremptory Rules, concerning either child- 5 
ish or indifferent Actions, wherein his Son is to have his 
Liberty, or concerning his Learning or Improvement, wherein 
there is no Compulsion to be us d : There remains only the 
Prohibition of some vicious Actions, wherein a Child is 
capable of Obstinacy, and consequently can deserve Beating ; 10 
and so there will be but very few Occasions of that Dis 
cipline to be us d by any one who considers well and 
orders his Child s Education as it should be. For the first 
seven Years, what Vices can a Child be guilty of, but Lying, 
or some ill-natur d Tricks; the repeated Commission whereof, 15 
after his Father s direct Command against it, shall bring 
him into the Condemnation of Obstinacy, and the Chastise 
ment of the Rod? If any vicious Inclination in him be, 
in the first Appearance and Instances of it, treated as it 
should be, first with your Wonder, and then, if returning 20 
again, a second Time discountenanc d with the severe Brow 
of a Father, Tutor, and all about him, and a Treatment 
suitable to the State of Discredit before-mention d ; and this 
continu d till he be made sensible and asham d of his Fault, 
I imagine there will be no need of any other Correction, nor 25 
ever any Occasion to come to Blows. The Necessity of 
such Chastisement is usually the Consequence only of former 
Indulgences or Neglects: If vicious Inclinations were watch d 
from the Beginning, and the first Irregularities which they 
cause, corrected by those gentler Ways, we should seldom 30 
have to do with more than one Disorder at once ; which 
would be easily set right without any Stir or Noise, and not 
require so harsh a Discipline as Beating. Thus one by one, 
as they appear d, they might all be weeded out, without any 
Signs or Memory that ever they had been there. But we 35 
letting their Faults (by indulging and humouring our little 
Ones) grow up, till they are sturdy and numerous, and the 
Deformity of them makes us asham d and uneasy, we are 
fain to come to the Plough and the Harrow ; the Spade and 
the Pick-Ax must go deep to come at the Roots ; and all 40 
the Force, Skill, and Diligence we can use, is scarce enough 

64 Shew surprise at sin. Must Rod teach? [84 86 

to cleanse the vitiated Seed-Plat, overgrown with Weeds, 
and restore us the Hopes of Fruits, to reward our Pains in 
its Season. 

85. This Course, if observ d, will spare both Father 
5 and Child the Trouble of repeated Injunctions, and multi- 
ply d Rules of Doing and Forbearing. For I am of Opinion, 
that of those Actions which tend to vicious Habits, (which 
are those alone that a Father should interpose his Authority 
and Commands in) none should be forbidden Children till 

i o they are found guilty of them. For such untimely Pro 
hibitions, if they do nothing worse, do at least so much 
towards teaching and allowing em, that they suppose that 
Children may be guilty of them, who would possibly be 
safer in the Ignorance of any such Faults. And the best 

15 Remedy to stop them, is, as I have said, to shew Wonder 
and Amazement at any such Action as hath a vicious Ten 
dency, when it is first taken Notice of in a Child. For Ex 
ample, when he is first found in a Lie, or any ill-natur d 
Trick, the first Remedy should be, to talk to him of it as 

20 a strange monstrous Matter, that it could not be imagin d he 
would have done, and so shame him out of it. 

86. It will be ( tis like) objected, that whatsoever I 
fancy of the Tractableness of Children, and the Prevalency 
of those softer Ways of Shame and Commendation; yet 

25 there are many who will never apply themselves to their 
Books, and to what they ought to learn, unless they are 
scourg d to it. This, I fear, is nothing but the Language of 
ordinary Schools and Fashion, which have never suffer d the 
other to be try d as it should be, in Places where it could be 

30 taken Notice of. Why, else, does the learning of Latin and 
Greek need the Rod, when French and Italian need it not? 
Children learn to dance and Fence without Whipping ; nay, 
Arithmetick, Drawing, &^c. they apply themselves well 
enough to without Beating: Which would make one sus- 

35 pect, that there is something strange, unnatural, and dis 
agreeable to that Age, in the Things required in Gram 
mar-Schools, or in the Methods us d there, that Children 
cannot be brought to, without the Severity of the Lash, 
and hardly with that too; or else, that it is a Mistake, 

40 that those Tongues could not be taught them without 

87] The Incorrigible. 65 

87. But let us suppose some so negligent or idle, that 
they will not be brought to learn by the gentle Ways pro- 
pos d, (for we must grant, that there will be Children found 
of all Tempers,) yet it does not thence follow, that the 
rough Discipline of the Cudgel is to be us d to all. Nor can 5 
any one be concluded unmanageable by the milder Methods 
of Government, till they have been throughly try d upon 
him ; and if they will not prevail with him to use his En 
deavours, and do what is in his Power to do, we make no 
Excuses for the Obstinate. Blows are the proper Remedies 10 
for those; but Blows laid on in a Way different from the 
ordinary. He that wilfully neglects his Book, and stubbornly 
refuses any thing he can do, requir d of him by his Father, 
expressing himself in a positive serious Command, should 
not be corrected with two or three angry Lashes, for not 15 
performing his Task, and the same Punishment repeated 
again and again upon every the like Default ; but when it is 
brought to that pass, that Wilfulness evidently shews itself, and 
makes Blows necessary, I think the Chastisement should be a 
little more sedate, and a little more severe, and the Whipping 20 
(mingled with Admonition between) so continu d, till the Im 
pressions of it on the Mind were found legible in the Face, 
Voice, and Submission of the Child, not so sensible of the 
Smart as of the Fault he has been guilty of, and melting in 
true Sorrow under it. If such a Correction as this, try d 25 
some few Times at fit Distances, and carry d to the utmost 
Severity, with the visible Displeasure of the Father all the 
while, will not work the Effect, turn the Mind, and produce 
a future Compliance, what can be hop d from Blows, and 
to what Purpose should they be any more us d? Beating, 30 
when you can expect no Good from it, will look more like 
the Fury of an enrag d Enemy, than the Good-Will of a 
compassionate Friend ; and such Chastisement carries with 
it only Provocation, without any Prospect of Amendment. 
If it be any Father s Misfortune to have a Son thus perverse 35 
and untractable, I know not what more he can do but pray 
for him. But, I imagine, if a right Course be taken with 
Children from the Beginning, very few will be found to be 
such ; and when there are any such Instances, they are not 
to be the Rule for the Education of those who are better 40 
natur d, and may be manag d with better Usage. 

66 Tutors must have and deserve Respect. [ 88 90 

88. If a Tutor can be got, that, thinking himself in 

the Father s Place, charg d with his Care, and 

tor relishing these Things, will at the Beginning 

apply himself to put them in Practice, he will afterwards 

5 find his Work very easy ; and you will, I guess, have your 

Son in a little Time a greater Proficient in both Learning 

and Breeding than perhaps you imagine. But let him by 

no Means beat him at any Time without your Consent and 

Direction ; at least till you have Experience of his Dis- 

10 cretion and Temper. But yet. to keep up his Authority 
with his Pupil, besides concealing that he has not the Power 
of the Rod, you must be sure to use him with great Respect 
your self, and cause all your Family to do so too : For you 
cannot expect your Son should have any Regard for one 

15 whom he sees you, or his Mother, or others slight. If you 
think him worthy of Contempt, you have chosen amiss; 
and if you shew any Contempt of him, he will hardly escape 
it from your Son : And whenever that happens, whatever 
Worth he may have in himself, and Abilities for this Em- 

20 ployment, they are all lost to your Child, and can afterwards 
never be made useful to him. 

89. As the Father s Example must teach the Child 
Respect for his Tutor, so the Tutor s Example must lead 
the Child into those Actions he would have him do. His 

25 Practice must by no means cross his Precepts, unless he 
intend to set him wrong. It will be to no Purpose for the 
Tutor to talk of the Restraint of the Passions whilst any of 
his own are let loose ; and he will in vain endeavour to 
reform any Vice or Indecency in his Pupil, which he allows 

30 in himself. Ill Patterns are sure to be follow d more than 
good Rules ; and therefore he must always carefully pre 
serve him from the Influence of ill Precedents, especially 
the most dangerous of all, the Examples of the Servants; 
from whose Company he is to be kept, not by Prohibitions, 

35 for that will but give him an Itch after it, but by other Ways 
I have mention d. 

90. In all the whole Business of Education, there is 

Go er or notnm g n ^e to be less hearken d to, or harder 

to be well observ d, than what I am now going 

40 to say ; and that is, that Children should, from their first 
beginning to talk, have some discreet, sober^ nay, wise Per- 

go, 91] Importance of the Tutor. 67 

son about them, whose Care it should be to fashion them 
aright, and keep them from all 111, especially the Infection 
of bad Company. I think this Province requires great 
Sobriety, Temperance, Tenderness, Diligence, and Discretion ; 
Qualities hardly to be found united in Persons that are to 5 
be had for ordinary Salaries, nor easily to be found any 
where. As to the Charge of it, I think it will be the 
Money best laid out that can be, about our Children ; and 
therefore, though it may be expensive more than is ordinary, 
yet it cannot be thought dear. He that at any rate pro- 10 
cures his Child a good Mind, well-principled, temper d to 
Virtue and Usefulness, and adorn d with Civility and good 
Breeding, makes a better Purchase for him than if he 
laid out the Money for an Addition of more Earth to his 
former Acres. Spare it in Toys and Play-Games, in Silk 15 
and Ribbons, Laces, and other useless Expences, as much 
as you please ; but be not sparing in so necessary a Part as 
this. Tis not good Husbandry to make his Fortune rich, 
and his Mind poor. I have often with great Admiration 
seen People lavish it profusely in tricking up their Children 20 
in fine Clothes, lodging and feeding them sumptuously, 
allowing them more than enough of useless Servants, and yet 
at the same Time starve their Minds, and not take sufficient 
Care to cover that which is the most shameful Nakedness, 
viz. their natural wrong Inclinations and Ignorance. This 25 
I can look on as no other than a sacrificing to their own 
Vanity, it shewing more their Pride than true Care of the 
Good of their Children ; whatsoever you employ to the 
Advantage of your Son s Mind, will shew your true Kind 
ness, tho it be to the lessening of his Estate. A wise and 30 
good Man can hardly want either the Opinion or Reality of 
being great and happy; but he that is foolish or vicious, 
can be neither great nor happy, what Estate soever you 
leave him : And I ask you, Whether there be not Men in 
the World, whom you had rather have your Son be with 35 
five hundred Pounds per Annum, than some other you 
know with five thousand Pounds. 

91. The Consideration of Charge ought not therefore 
to deter those who are able. The great Difficulty will be 
where to find a proper Person : For those of small Age, 40 
Parts, and Vertue, are unfit for this Employment, and those 


68 Choice of Tutor. [ 91 93 

that have greater, will hardly be got to undertake such a 
Charge. You must therefore look out early, and enquire 
every where ; for the World has People of all Sorts. And 
I remember, Montaigne says in one of his Essays, That the 
5 learned Castalio was fain to make Trenchers at Basle, to 
keep himself from starving, when his Father would have 
given any Money for such a Tutor for his Son, and Castalio 
have willingly embrac d such an Employment upon very 
reasonable Terms ; but this was for want of Intelligence. 

10 92. If you find it difficult to meet with such a Tutor 
as we desire, you are not to wonder. I only can say, spare 
no Care nor Cost to get such an one. All Things are to 
be had that Way : And I dare assure you, that if you can 
get a good one, you will never repent the Charge; but will 

15 always have the Satisfaction to think it the Money of all 
other the best laid out. But be sure take no body upon 
Friends, or Charity, no, nor upon great Commendations. 
Nay, if you will do as you ought, the Reputation of a sober 
Man, with a good Stock of Learning, (which is all usually 

20 requir d in a Tutor) will not be enough to serve your Turn. 
In this Choice be as curious as you would be in that of a 
Wife for him ; for you must not think of Trial Or Changing 
afterwards : This will cause great Inconvenience to you, 
and greater to your Son. When I consider the Scruples 

25 and Cautions I here lay in your Way, methinks it looks as 
if I advis d you to something which I would have offer d 
at, but in Effect not done. But he that shall consider how 
much the Business of a Tutor, rightly employ d, lies out of 
the Road, and how remote it is from the Thoughts of many, 

30 even of those who propose to themselves this Employment, 
will perhaps be of my Mind, that one fit to educate and 
form the Mind of a young Gentleman is not every where 
to be found, and that more than ordinary Care is to be 
taken in the Choice of him, or else you may fail of your 

35 End. 

93. The Character of a sober Man and a Scholar, is, 
as I have above observ d, what every one expects in a 
Tutor. This generally is thought enough, and is all that 
Parents commonly look for : But when such an one has 

40 empty d out into his Pupil all the Latin and Logick he has 
brought from the University, will that Furniture make him 

93] Good Breeding essential. 69 

a fine Gentleman ? Or can it be expected, that he should 
be better bred, better skill d in the World, better principled 
in the Grounds and Foundations of true Virtue and Gene 
rosity, than his young Tutor is ? 

To form a young Gentleman as he should be, tis fit his 5 
Governor should himself be well-bred, understanding the 
Ways of Carriage and Measures of Civility in all the 
Variety of Persons, Times, and Places ; and keep his Pupil, 
as much as his Age requires, constantly to the Observation 
of them. This is an Art not to be learnt nor taught by 10 
Books. Nothing can give it but good Company and 
Observation join d together. The Taylor may make his 
Clothes modish, and the Dancing-master give Fashion to 
his Motions ; yet neither of these, tho they set off well, 
make a well-bred Gentleman : No, tho he have Learning 15 
to boot, which, if not well manag d, makes him more imper 
tinent and intolerable in Conversation. Breeding is that 
which sets a Gloss upon all his other good Qualities, and 
renders them useful to him, in procuring him the Esteem 
and Good-will of all that he comes near. Without good 20 
Breeding his other .Accomplishments make him pass but 
for proud, conceited, vain, or foolish. 

Courage in an ill-bred Man has the Air and escapes 
not the Opinion of Brutality : Learning becomes Pedantry; 
Wit, Buffoonry; Plainness, Rusticity; good Nature, Fawn- 25 
ing. And there cannot be a good Quality in him, which 
Want of Breeding will not warp and disfigure to his Disad 
vantage. Nay, Virtue and Parts, though they are allow d 
their due Commendation, yet are not enough to procure a 
Man a good Reception, and make him welcome wherever 30 
he comes. No body contents himself with rough Dia 
monds, and wears them so, who would appear with Advan 
tage. When they are polish d and set, then they give a 
Lustre. Good Qualities are the substantial Riches of the 
Mind, but tis good Breeding sets them off: And he that 35 
will be acceptable, must give Beauty, as well as Strength, 
to his Actions. Solidity, or even Usefulness, is not enough: 
A graceful Way and Fashion in every thing, is that which 
gives the Ornament and Liking. And in most Cases, the 
Manner of doing is of more Consequence than the Thing 40 
done ; and upon that depends the Satisfaction or Disgust 

76 The Tutor must see to Manners. [ 93 

wherewith it is receiv d. This therefore, which lies not in 
the putting off the Hat, nor making of Compliments, but in 
a due and free Composure of Language, Looks, Motion, 
Posture, Place, &c. suited to Persons and Occasions, and 
5 can be learn d only by Habit and Use, though it be above 
the Capacity of Children, and little ones should not be 
perplex d about it, yet it ought to be begun and in a good 
measure learn d by a young Gentleman whilst he is under a 
Tutor, before he comes into the World upon his own Legs : 

TO For then usually it is too late to hope to reform several 
habitual Indecencies, which lie in little Things. For the 
Carriage is not as it should be, till it is become natural in 
every Part, falling, as skilful Musicians Fingers do, into 
harmonious Order without Care and without Thought. 

15 If in Conversation a Man s Mind be taken up with a solicit 
ous Watchfulness about any Part of his Behaviour; instead 
of being mended by it, it will be constrain d, uneasy, and 

Besides, this Part is most necessary to be form d by the 

20 Hands and Care of a Governor, because, though the Errors 
committed in Breeding are the first that are taken notice of 
by others, yet they are the last that any one is told of; not 
but that the Malice of the World is forward enough to 
tattle of them ; but it is always out of his hearing, who 

25 should make Profit of their Judgment and reform himself 
by their Censure. And indeed, this is so nice a Point to 
be meddled with, that even those who are Friends, and 
wish it were mended, scarce ever dare mention it, and tell 
those they love that they are guilty in such or such Cases 

30 of ill Breeding. Errors in other Things may often with 
Civility be shewn another ; and tis no Breach of good 
Manners or Friendship to set him right in other Mistakes ; 
but good Breeding itself allows not a Man to touch upon 
this, or to insinuate to another that he is guilty of Want of 

35 Breeding. Such Information can come only from those 
who have Authority over them ; and from them too it 
comes very hardly and harshly to a grown Man ; and how 
ever soften d, goes but ill down with any one who has liv d 
ever so little in the World. Wherefore it is necessary that 

40 this Part should be the Governor s principal Care, that an 
habitual Gracefulness, and Politeness in all his Carriage, 

93> 94] Teaching knowledge of the World. 71 

may be settled in his Charge, as much as may be, before he 
goes out of his Hands ; and that he may not need Advice 
in this Point when he has neither Time nor Disposition to 
receive it, nor has any body left to give it him. The Tutor 
therefore ought in the first Place to be well-bred : And a 5 
young Gentleman, who gets this one Qualification from his 
Governor, sets out with great Advantage, and will find that 
this one Accomplishment will more open his Way to him, 
get him more Friends, and carry him farther in the World, 
than all the hard Words or real Knowledge he has got from 10 
the Liberal Arts, or his Tutor s learned Encydopaidia : Not 
that those should be neglected, but by no means preferr d, 
or suffer d to thrust out the other. 

94. Besides being well-bred, the Tutor should know 
the World well; the Ways, the Humours, the Follies, the 15 
Cheats, the Faults of the Age he is fallen into, and par 
ticularly of the Country he lives in. These he should be 
able to shew to his Pupil, as he finds him capable ; teach 
him Skill in Men, and their Manners; pull off the Mask 
which their several Callings and Pretences cover them with, 20 
and make his Pupil discern what lies at the Bottom under 
such Appearances, that he may not, as unexperienc d young 
Men are apt to do if they are unwarn d, take one Thing 
for another, judge by the Outside, and give himself up to 
Shew, and the Insinuation of a fair Carriage, or an obliging 25 
Application. A Governor should teach his Scholar to 
guess at and beware of the Designs of Men he hath to do 
with, neither with too much Suspicion, nor too much Con 
fidence ; but as the young Man is by Nature most inclin d 
to either Side, rectify him, and bend him the other Way. 30 
He should accustom him to make, as much as is possible, 
a true Judgment of Men by those Marks which serve best 
to shew what they are, and give a Prospect into their Inside, 
which often shews itself in little Things, especially when 
they are not in Parade, and upon their Guard. He should 35 
acquaint him with the true State or the World, and dispose 
him to think no Man better or worse, wiser or foolisher, 
than he really is. Thus, by safe and insensible Degrees, he 
will pass from a Boy to a Man ; which is the most hazard 
ous Step in all the whole Course of Life. This therefore 40 
should be carefully watch d, and a young Man with great 

72 Dangers from ignorance of the World. [94 

Diligence handed over it ; and not as now usually is done, 
be taken from a Governor s Conduct, and all at once thrown 
into the World under his own, not without manifest Dangers 
of immediate spoiling; there being nothing more frequent 
5 than Instances of the great Looseness, Extravagancy, and 
Debauchery, which young Men have run into as soon as 
they have been let loose from a severe and strict Education: 
Which I think may be chiefly imputed to their wrong Way 
of Breeding, especially in this Part ; for having been bred 

10 up in a great Ignorance of what the World truly is, and 
finding it a quite other Thing, when they come into it, than 
what they were taught it should be, and so imagin d it was, 
are easily persuaded, by other kind of Tutors, which they 
are sure to meet with, that the Discipline they were kept 

15 under, and the Lectures read to them, were but the For 
malities of Education and the Restraints of Childhood ; 
that the Freedom belonging to Men is to take their Swing 
in a full Enjoyment of what was before forbidden them. 
They shew the young Novice the World full of fashionable 

20 and glittering Examples of this every where, and he is 
presently dazzled with them. My young Master failing not 
to be willing to shew himself a Man, as much as any of the 
Sparks of his Years, lets himself loose to all the Irregu 
larities he finds in the most debauch d ; and thus courts 

25 Credit and Manliness in the casting off the Modesty and 
Sobriety he has till then been kept in ; and thinks it brave, 
at his first setting out, to signalize himself in running 
counter to all the Rules of Virtue which have been preach d 
to i/him by his Tutor. 

30 \y The shewing him the World as really it is, before he 
comes wholly into it, is one of the best Means, I think, to 
prevent this Mischief. He should by Degrees be informed 
of the Vices in P ashion, and warned of the Applications 
and Designs of those who will make it their Business to 

35 corrupt him. He should be told the Arts they use, and the 
Trains they lay ; and now and then have set before him the 
tragical or ridiculous Examples of those who are ruining or 
ruin d this Way. The Age is not like to want Instances of 
this kind, which should be made Land-marks to him, that 

40 by the Disgraces, Diseases, Beggary, and Shame of hopeful 
young Men thus brought to Ruin, he may be precaution d, 

94] Forewarned, forearmed. 73 

and be made see, how those join in the Contempt and Neg 
lect of them that are undone, who, by Pretences of Friend 
ship and Respect, lead them to it, and help to prey upon 
them whilst they were undoing ; that he may see, before he 
buys it by a too dear Experience, that those who persuade 5 
him not to follow the sober Advices he has receiv d from 
his Governors, and the Counsel of his own Reason, which 
they call being govern d by others, do it only that they may 
have the Government of him themselves; and make him 
believe, he goes like a Man of himself, by his own Conduct, 10 
and for his own Pleasure, when in Truth he is wholly as a 
Child led by them into those Vices which best serve their 
Purposes. This is a Knowledge which, upon all Occasions, 
a Tutor should endeavour to instil, and by all Methods try 
to make him comprehend, and thoroughly relish. 15 

I know it is often said, that to discover to a young Man 
the Vices of the Age is to teach them him. That, I con 
fess, is a good deal so, according as it is done ; and therefore 
requires a discreet Man of Parts, who knows the World, and 
can judge of the Temper, Inclination, and weak Side of his 20 
Pupil. This farther is to be remember d, that it is not 
possible now (as perhaps formerly it was) to keep a young 
Gentleman from Vice by a total Ignorance of it, unless you 
will all his Life mew him up in a Closet, and never let him 
go into Company. The longer he is kept thus hoodwink d, 25 
the less he will see when he comes abroad into open Day 
light, and be the more expos d to be a Prey to himself and 
others. And an old Boy, at his first Appearance, with all 
the Gravity of his Ivy-Bush about him, is sure to draw on 
him the Eyes and Chirping 01 the whole Town Volery ; 30 
amongst which there will not be wanting some Birds of 
Prey, that will presently be on the Wing for him. 

The only Fence against the World, is, a thorough Know 
ledge of it, into which a young Gentleman should be enter d 
by Degrees, as he can bear it ; and the earlier the better, so 35 
he be in safe and skilful Hands to guide him. The Scene 
should be gently open d, and his Entrance made Step by 
Step, and the Dangers pointed out that attend him from 
the several Degrees, Tempers, Designs, and Clubs of Men. 
He should be prepar d to be shock d by some, and caress d 40 
by others ; warn d who are like to oppose, who to mislead, 

74 Breeding before Booklearning. [ 94 

who to undermine him, and who to serve him. He should 
be instructed how to know and distinguish them ; where he 
should let them see, and when dissemble the Knowledge of 
them and their Aims and Workings. And if he be too for- 
5 ward to venture upon his own Strength and Skill, the Per 
plexity and Trouble of a Misadventure now and then, that 
reaches not his Innocence, his Health, or Reputation, may 
not be an ill Way to teach him more Caution. 

This, I confess, containing one great Part of Wisdom, is 

10 not the Product of some superficial Thoughts, or much 
Reading ; but the Effect of Experience and Observation in 
a Man who has liv d in the World with his Eyes open, and 
convers d with Men of all Sorts. And therefore I think it of 
most Value to be instill d into a young Man upon all Occa- 

15 sions which offer themselves, that when he comes to launch 
into the Deep himself, he may not be like one at Sea with 
out a Line, Compass or Sea-Chart; but may have some 
Notice before-hand of the Rocks and Shoals, the Currents 
and Quick-sands, and know a little how to steer, that he 

20 sink not before he get Experience. He that thinks not this 
of more Moment to his Son, and for which he more needs a 
Governor, than the Languages and learned Sciences, forgets 
of how much more Use it is to judge right of Men, and 
manage his Affairs wisely with them, than to speak Greek 

25 and Latin, or argue in Mood and Figure; or to have his 
Head fill d with the abstruse Speculations of natural Philo 
sophy and Metaphysicks; nay, than to be well vers d in 
Greek and Roman Writers, though that be much better for a 
Gentleman than to be a good Peripatetick or Cartesian, 

30 because those antient Authors observ d and painted Man 
kind well, and give the best Light into that kind of Know 
ledge. He that goes into the Eastern Parts of Asia, will 
find able and acceptable Men without any of these ; but 
without Virtue, Knowledge of the World, and Civility, an 

35 accomplished and valuable Man can be found no where. 

A great Part of the Learning now in Fashion in the 
Schools of Europe, and that goes ordinarily into the Round 
of Education, a Gentleman may in a good Measure be un- 
furnish d with, without any great Disparagement to himself 

40 or Prejudice to his Affairs. But Prudence and good Breed 
ing are in all the Stations and Occurrences of Life necessary; 

94] True function of the Tutor. 75 

and most young Men suffer in the Want of them, and come 
rawer and more awkward into the World than they should, for 
thjs very Reason, because these Qualities, which are of all 
other the most necessary to be taught, and stand most in 
need of the Assistance and Help of a Teacher, are generally 5 
neglected and thought but a slight or no Part of a Tutor s 
Business. Latin and Learning make all the Noise ; and 
the main Stress is laid upon his Proficiency in Things a 
great Part whereof belong not to a Gentleman s Calling; 
which is to have the Knowledge of a Man of Business, a 10 
Carriage suitable to his Rank, and to be eminent and useful 
in his Country, according to his Station. Whenever either 
spare Hours from that, or an Inclination to perfect himself 
in some Parts of Knowledge, which his Tutor did but just 
enter him in, set him upon any Study, the first Rudiments 15 
of it, which he learn d before, will open the Way enough for 
his own Industry to carry him as far as his Fancy will 
prompt, or his Parts enable him to go. Or, if he thinks it 
may save his Time and Pains to be help d over some Diffi 
culties by the Hand of a Master, he may then take a Man 20 
that is perfectly well skilled in it, or chuse such an one as 
he thinks fittest for his Purpose. But to initiate his Pupil 
in any Part of Learning, as far as is necessary for a young 
Man in the ordinary Course of his Studies, an ordinary Skill 
in the Governor is enough. Nor is it requisite that he 25 
should be a thorough Scholar, or possess in Perfection all 
those Sciences which tis convenient a young Gentleman 
should have a Taste of in some general View, or short 
System. A Gentleman that would penetrate deeper must 
do it by his own Genius and Industry afterwards : For no 30 
body ever went far in Knowledge, or became eminent in 
any of the Sciences, by the Discipline and Constraint of a 

The great Work of a Go-senior, is to fashion the Carriage, 
and form the Mind ; to settle in his Pupil good Habits and 35 
the Principles of Virtue and Wisdom ; to give him by little 
and little a View of Mankind, and work him into a Love 
and Imitation of what is excellent and praise-worthy ; and, 
in the Prosecution of it, to give him Vigour, Activity, and 
Industry. The Studies which he sets him upon, are but as 4 
it were the Exercises of his Faculties, and Employment of 

76 " Non vitse sed scholse discimus." [ 94 

his Time, to keep him from Sauntering and Idleness, to 
teach him Application, and accustom him to take Pains, and 
to give him some little Taste of what his own Industry must 
perfect. For who expects, that under a Tutor a young 
5 Gentleman should be an accomplish d Critick, Orator, or 
Logician ? go to the Bottom of Metaphysicks, natural Philo 
sophy, or Mathematicks ? or be a Master in History or 
Chronology? though something of each of these is to be 
taught him : But it is only to open the Door, that he may 

10 look in, and as it were begin an Acquaintance, but not to 
dwell there : And a Governor would be much blam d that 
should keep his Pupil too long, and lead him too far in 
most of them. But of good Breeding, Knowledge of the 
World, Virtue, Industry, and a Love of Reputation, he can- 

15 not have too much : And if he have these, he will not long 
want what he needs or desires of the other. 

And since it cannot be hop d he should have Time and 
Strength to learn all Things, most Pains should be taken 
about that which rs most necessary; and that principally 

20 Icok d after which will be of most and frequentest Use to him 
in the World. 

Seneca complains of the contrary Practice in his Time ; 
and yet the JBurgursdidufs and the Scheibiers did not swarm 
in those Days as they do now in these. What would he 

25 have thought if he had liv d now, when the Tiitors think it 
their great Business to fill the Studies and Heads of their 
Pupils with such Authors as these? He would have had 
much more Reason to say, as he does, Non vita sed scholcz 
disdains, We learn not to live, but to dispute; and our 

30 Education fits us rather for the University than the World. 
But tis no wonder if those who make the Fashion suit it to 
what they have, and not to what their Pupils want. The 
Fashion being once establish d, who can think it strange, 
that in this, as well as in all other Things, it should prevail? 

35 And that the greatest Part of those, who find their Account 
in an easy Submission to it, should be ready to cry out, 
Heresy, when any one departs from it? Tis nevertheless 
Matter of Astonishment that Men of Quality and Parts 
should suffer themselves to be so far misled by Custom and 

40 implicit Faith. Reason, if consulted with, would advise, 
that their Children s Time should be spent in acquiring what 

94] Get Man of the World for Tutor. 77 

might be useful to them when they come to be Men, rather 
than to have their Heads stufPd with a deal of Trash, a 
great Part whereof they usually never do ( tis certain they 
never need to) think on again as long as they live ; and so 
much of it as does stick by them they are only the worse 5 
for. This is so well known, that I appeal to Parents them 
selves, who have been at Cost to have their young Heirs 
taught it, whether it be not ridiculous for their Sons to have 
any Tincture of that Sort of Learning, when they come 
abroad into the World? whether any Appearance of it 10 
would not lessen and disgrace them in Company? And 
that certainly must be an admirable Acquisition, and 
deserves well to make a Part in Education, which Men are 
asham d of where they are most concern d to shew their 
Parts and Breeding. 15 

There is yet another Reason why Politeness of Manners, 
and Knowledge of the World should principally be look d 
after in a Tutor ; and that is, because a Man of Parts and 
Years may enter a Lad far enough in any of those 
Sciences, which he has no deep Insight into himself. Books 20 
in these will be able to furnish him, and give him Light and 
Precedency enough to go before a young Follower: But he 
will never be able to set another right in the Knowledge of 
the World, and above all in Breeding, who is a Novice in 
them himself. 25 

This is a Knowledge he must have about him, worn into 
him by Use and Conversation, and a long forming himself 
by what he has observ d to be practis d and allow d in the 
best Company. This, if he has it not of his own, is no 
where to be borrowed for the Use of his Pupil; or if he 30 
could find pertinent Treatises of it in Books that would 
reach all the Particulars of an English Gentleman s Beha 
viour, his own ill-fashion d Example, if he be not well-bred 
himself, would spoil all his Lectures; it being impossible, 
that any one should come forth well-fashion d out of un- 35 
polish d, ill-bred Company. 

I say this, not that I think such a Tutor is every Day to 
be met with, or to be had at the ordinary Rates ; but that 
those who are able, may not be sparing of Enquiry or Cost 
in what is of so great Moment; and that other Parents, 40 
whose Estates will not reach to greater Salaries, may yet 

78 Father and Son. [ 9496 

remember what they should principally have an Eye to in 
the Choice of one to whom they would commit the Educa 
tion of their Children; and what Part they should chiefly 
look after themselves, whilst they are under their Care, and 
5 as often as they come within their Observation; and not 
think that all lies in Latin and French or some dry Systems 
of Logick and Philosophy. 

95. But to return to our Method again. Though I 
have mention d the Severity of the Father s 

familiarity. .,., 

Brow, and the Awe settled thereby in the Mind 
of Children when young, as one main Instrument whereby 
their Education is to be manag d ; yet I am far from being 
of an Opinion that it should be continu d all along to them, 
whilst they are under the Discipline and Government of 

15 Pupilage; I think it should be relax d, as fast as their Age, 
Discretion and good Behaviour could allow it ; even to that 
Degree, that a Father will do well, as his Son grows up, 
and is capable of it, to talk familiarly with him ; nay, ask 
his Advice, and consult with him about those Things wherein 

20 he has any Knowledge or Understanding. By this, the 
Father will gain two Things, both of great Moment. The 
one is, that it will put serious Considerations into his Son s 
Thoughts, better than any Rules or Advices he can give 
him. The sooner you treat him as a Man, the sooner he 

25 will begin to be one: And if you admit him into serious 
Discourses sometimes with you, you will insensibly raise his 
Mind above the usual Amusements of Youth, and those 
trifling Occupations which it is commonly wasted in. For 
it is easy to observe, that many young Men continue longer 

30 in the Thought and Conversation of School-Boys than 
otherwise they would, because their Parents keep them at 
that Distance, and in that low Rank, by all their Carriage to 

96. Another Thing of greater Consequence, which 

35 you will obtain by such a Way of treating him, will be his 
Friendship. Many Fathers, though they proportion to their 
Sons liberal Allowances, according to their Age and Con 
dition, yet they keep the Knowledge of their Estates and 
Concerns from them with as much Reservedness as if they 

4 were guarding a Secret of State from a Spy or an Enemy. 
This, if it looks not like Jealousy, yet it wants those Marks 

9 6 > 97] Friendship of Father and Son. 79 

of Kindness and Intimacy which a Father should shew to 
his Son, and no doubt often hinders or abates that Chear- 
fulness and Satisfaction wherewith a Son should address 
himself to, and rely upon his Father. And I cannot but 
often wonder to see Fathers who love their Sons very well, 5 
yet so order the Matter by a constant Stiffness and a Mien 
of Authority and Distance to them all their Lives, as if they 
were never to enjoy, or have any Comfort from those they 
love best in the World, till they had lost them by being 
remov d into another. Nothing cements and establishes 10 
Friendship and Good-will so much as confident Communica 
tion of Concernments and Affairs. Other Kindnesses, with 
out this, leave still some Doubts: But when your Son sees 
you open your Mind to him, when he finds that you interest 
him in your Affairs, as Things you are willing should in 15 
their Turn come into his Hands, he will be concern d for 
them as for his own, wait his Season with Patience, and love 
you in the mean Time, who keep him not at the Distance of 
a Stranger. This will also make him see, that the Enjoy 
ment you have, is not without Care; which the more he is 20 
sensible of, the less will he envy you the Possession, and 
the more think himself happy under the Management of so 
favourable a Friend and so careful a Father. There is scarce 
any young Man of so little Thought, or so void of Sense, 
that would not be glad of a sure Friend, that he might have 25 
Recourse to, and freely consult on Occasion. The Re- 
servedness and Distance that Fathers keep, often deprive 
their Sons of that Refuge which would be of more Advan 
tage to them than an hundred Rebukes and Chidings. 
Would your Son engage in some Frolick, or take a Vagary, 30 
were it not much better he should do it with, than without 
your Knowledge ? For since Allowances for such Things 
must be made to young Men, the more you know of his 
Intrigues and Designs, the better will you be able to prevent 
great Mischiefs; and by letting him see what is like to 35 
follow, take the right way of prevailing with him to avoid less 
Inconveniences. Would you have him open his Heart to 
you, and ask your Advice? you must begin to do so with 
him first, and by your Carriage beget that Confidence. 

97. But whatever he consults you about, unless it 40 
lead to some fatal and irremediable Mischief, be sure you 

8o Father s Friendship. ExercisingReason. [97,98 

advise only as a Friend of more Experience; but with your 
Advice mingle nothing of Command or Authority, nor more 
than you would to your Equal or a Stranger. That would 
be to drive him for ever from any farther demanding, or 
5 receiving Advantage from your Counsel. You must con 
sider that he is a young Man, and has Pleasures and Fancies 
which you are pass d. You must not expect his Inclination 
should be just as yours, nor that at twenty he should have 
the same Thoughts you have at fifty. All that you can wish, 

10 is, that since Youth must have some Liberty, some Out- 
leaps, they might be with the Ingenuity of a Son, and under 
the Eye of a Father, and then no very great Harm can come 
of it. The Way to obtain this, as I said before, is (accord 
ing as you find him capable) to talk with him about your 

15 Affairs, propose Matters to him familiarly, and ask his 
Advice; and when he ever lights on the right, follow it as 
his ; and if it succeed well, let him have the Commenda 
tion. This will not at all lessen your Authority, but increase 
his Love and Esteem of you. Whilst you keep your Estate, 

20 the Staff will still be in your own Hands; and your Au 
thority the surer, the more it is strengthen d with Confi 
dence and Kindness. For you have not that Power you 
ought to have over him, till he comes to be more afraid of 
offending so good a Friend than of losing some Part of his 

25 future Expectation. 

98. Familiarity of Discourse, if it can become a 
Father to his Son, may much more be condescended to by 
a Tutor to his Pupil. All their Time together should not 
be spent in reading of Lectures, and magisterially dictating 

30 to him what he is to observe and follow. Hearing him in 
his turn, and using him to reason about what is propos d, 
will make the Rules go down the easier and sink the deeper, 
and will give him a liking to Study and Instruction: And 
he will then begin to value Knowledge, when he sees that 

35 it enables him to discourse, and he finds the Pleasure and 
Credit of bearing a Part in the Conversation, and of having 
his Reasons sometimes approv d and hearken d to; particu 
larly in Morality, Prudence, and Breeding, Cases should be 
put to him, and his- Judgment ask d. This opens the Un- 

40 derstanding better than Maxims, how well soever explain d, 
and settles the Rules better in the Mqmory for Practice. 

98,99] Against Disputations. Secure Reverence. Si 

This Way lets Things into the Mind, which stick there, 
and retain their Evidence with them; whereas Words at 
best are faint Representations, being not so much as the 
true Shadows of Things, and are much sooner forgotten. 
He will better comprehend the Foundations and Measures 5 
of Decency and Justice, and have livelier, and more lasting 
Impressions of what he ought to do, by giving his Opinion 
on Cases propos d, and reasoning with his Tutor on fit 
Instances, than by giving a silent, negligent, sleepy Audi 
ence to his Tutor s Lectures ; and much more than by 10 
captious logical Disputes, or set Declamations of his own, 
upon any Question. The one sets the Thoughts upon Wit 
and false Colours, and not upon Truth; the other teaches 
Fallacy, Wrangling, and Opiniatry; and they are both of 
them Things that spoil the Judgment, and put a Man out 15 
of the Way of right and fair Reasoning; and therefore care 
fully to be avoided by one who would improve himself, and 
be acceptable to others. 

99. When by making your Son sensible that he de 
pends on you, and is in your Power, you have 20 
establish d your Authority; and by being inflexi 
bly severe in your Carriage to him when obstinately per 
sisting in any illnatur d Trick which you have forbidden, 
especially Lying, you have imprinted on his Mind that Awe 
which is necessary; and, on the other side, when (by permit- 25 
ting him the full Liberty due to his Age, and laying no 
Restraint in your Presence to those childish Actions and 
Gaiety of Carriage, which, whilst he is very young, is as 
necessary to him as Meat or Sleep) you have reconcil d him 
to your Company, and made him sensible of your Care and 30 
Love of him, by Indulgence and Tenderness, especially 
caressing him on all Occasions wherein he does any Thing 
well, and being kind to him after a thousand Fashions, 
suitable to his Age, which Nature teaches Parents better 
than I can: When, I say, by these Ways of Tenderness and 35 
Affection, which Parents never want for their Children, you 
have also planted in him a particular Affection for you ; he 
is then in the State you could desire, and you have form d 
in his Mind that true Reverence which is always afterwards 
carefully to be continu d, and maintain d in both Parts of 40 
it, Love, and Fear, as the great Principles whereby you will 

82 Study the Child s Character. [ 99102 

always have Hold upon him, to turn his Mind to the Ways 
of Virtue and Honour. 

100. When this Foundation is once well lay d, and 
you find this Reverence begin to work in him, 

J. cjnpcF * ^ 

5 the next thing to be done, is carefully to con 

sider his Temper, and the particular Constitution of his 
Mind. Stubbornness, Lying, and ill-natur d Actions, are 
not (as has been said) to be permitted in him from the 
Beginning, whatever his Temper be. Those Seeds of Vices 

10 are not to be suffer d to take any Root, but must be care 
fully weeded out, as soon as ever they begin to shew them 
selves in him ; and your Authority is to take Place and 
Influence his Mind, from the very dawning of any Know 
ledge in him, that it may operate as a natural Principle, 

1 5 whereof he never perceiv d the Beginning, never knew that 
it was, or could be otherwise. By this, if the Reverence 
he owes you be establish d early, it will always be sacred to 
him, and it will be as hard for him to resist it as the Prin 
ciples of his Nature. 

20 101. Having thus very early set up your Authority, 
and by the gentler Applications of it sham d him out of 
what leads towards an immoral Habit, as soon as you have 
observ d it in him, (for I would by no Means have Chiding 
us d, much less Blows, till Obstinacy and Incorrigibleness 

25 make it absolutely necessary) it will be fit to consider which 
Way the natural Make of his Mind inclines him. Some 
Men by the unalterable Frame of their Constitutions, are 
stout, others timorous, some confident, others modest, tractable, 
or obstinate, curious or careless, quick or slow. There are 

30 not more Differences in Men s Faces, and the outward 
Lineaments of their Bodies, than there are in the Makes 
and Tempers of their Minds; only there is this Difference, 
that the distinguishing Characters of the Face, and the 
Lineaments of the Body, grow more plain and visible with 

35 Time and Age; but the peculiar Physiognomy of the Mind\?, 
most discernible in Children, before Art and Cunning have 
taught them to hide their Deformities, and conceal their ill 
Inclinations under a dissembled Outside. 

102. Begin therefore betimes nicely to observe your 

40 Son s Temper; and that, when he is under least Restraint, in 
his Play, and as he thinks out of your Sight. See what are 

102 105] Child loves Liberty and Power. 83 

\i\^ predominate Passions and prevailing Inclinations ; whether 
he be fierce or mild, bold or bashful, compassionate or cruel, 
open or reserv d &>c. For as these are different in him, so 
are your Methods to be different, and your Authority must 
hence take Measures to apply itself different Ways to him. 5 
These native Propensities, these Prevalencies of Constitution, 
are not to be cur d by Rules, or a direct Contest, especially 
those of them that are the humbler and meaner Sort, which 
proceed from Fear, and Lowness of Spirit; though with Art 
they may be much mended, and turn d to good Purposes. 10 
But this, be sure, after all is done, the Byass will always 
hang on that Side that Nature first plac d it: And if you 
carefully observe the Characters of his Mind, now in the 
first Scenes of his Life, you will ever after be able to judge 
which Way his Thoughts lean, and what he aims at even 15 
hereafter, when, as he grows up, the Plot thickens, and he 
puts on several Shapes to act it. 

103. I told you before, that Children love Liberty ; 
and therefore they should be brought to do the Dominion 
Things are fit for them, without feeling any 20 

Restraint laid upon them. I now tell you, they love some 
thing more; and that is Dominion : And this is the first 
Original of most vicious Habits, that are ordinary and 
natural. This Love of Power and Dominion shews itself 
very early, and that in these two Things. 25 

104. i. We see children, as soon almost as they are 
born (I am sure long before they can speak) cry, grow 
peevish, sullen, and out of Humour, for nothing but to have 
their Wills. They would have their Desires submitted to 
by others; they contend for a ready Compliance from all 30 
about them, especially from those that stand near or beneath 
them in Age or Degree, as soon as they come to consider 
others with those Distinctions. 

105. Another Thing wherein they shew their Love of 
Dominion, is, their Desire to have Things to be theirs: 35 
They would have Propriety and Possession, pleasing them 
selves with the Power which that seems to give, and the 
Right they thereby have, to dispose of them as they please. 
He that has not observ d these two Humours working very 
betimes in Children, has taken little Notice of their Actions: 40 
And he who thinks that these two Roots of almost all the 


84 Children must not be Choosers. [ 105 107 

Injustice and Contention that so disturb human Life, are 
not early to be weeded out, and contrary Habits introduc d, 
neglects the proper Season to lay the Foundations of a good 
and worthy Man. To do this, I imagine these following 
5 Things may somewhat conduce. 

1 06. i. That a Child should never be suffer d to 

era in" ^ iave what he craves, much less what he cries 

for, I had said, or so much as speaks for: 

But that being apt to be misunderstood, and interpreted 

10 as if I meant a Child should never speak to his Parents 
for any Thing, which will perhaps be thought to lay 
too great a Curb on the Minds of Children, to the 
Prejudice of that Love and Affection which should be be 
tween them and their Parents; I shall explain my self a 

15 little more particularly. It is fit that they should have 
Liberty to declare their Wants to their Parents, and that with 
all Tenderness they should be hearken d to, and supply d, at 
least whilst they are very little. But tis one Thing to say, I 
am hungry, another to say, I would have Roast-Meat. 

20 Having declar d their Wants, their natural Wants, the Pain 
they feel from Hunger, Thirst, Cold, or any other Necessity 
of Nature, tis the Duty of their Parents and those about 
them to relieve them: But Children must leave it to the 
Choice and Ordering of their Parents, what they think pro- 

25 perest for them, and how much; and must not be permitted 
to chuse for themselves, and say, I would have Wine, or 
White-bread; the very naming of it should make them 
lose it. 

107. That which Parents should take care of here, is 

30 to distinguish between the Wants of Fancy, and those of 
Nature; which Horace has well taught them to do in this 
Verse : 

Qiteis humana sibi doleat nalura ncgatis. 
Those are truly natural Wants, which Reason alone, 

35 without some other Help, is not able to fence against, nor 
keep from disturbing us. The Pains of Sickness and Hurts, 
Hunger, Thirst, and Cold, Want of Sleep and Rest or Re 
laxation of the Part weary d with Labour, are what all Men 
feel, and the best dispos d Minds cannot but be sensible of 

40 their Uneasiness; and therefore ought, by fit Applications, to 
seek their Removal, though not with Impatience, or over 

107] Those that ask shall not have. 85 

great Haste, upon the first Approaches of them, where delay 
does not threaten some irreparable Harm. The Pains that 
come from the Necessities of Nature, are Monitors to us to 
beware of greater Mischiefs, which they are the Forerunners 
of; and therefore they must not be wholly neglected, nor 5 
strain d too far. But yet the more Children can be inur d to 
Hardships of this Kind, by a wise Care to make them 
stronger in Body and Mind, the better it will be for them. 
I need not here give any Caution to keep within the Bounds 
of doing them good, and to take care, that what Children 10 
are made to suffer, should neither break their Spirits, nor 
injure their Health, Parents being but too apt of them 
selves to incline more than they should to the softer Side. 

But whatever Compliance the Necessities of Nature may 
require, the Wants of Fancy Children should never be 15 
gratify d in, nor suffered to mention. The very speaking for 
any such Thing should make them lose it. Clothes, when 
they need, they must have; but if they speak for this Stuff 
or that Colour, they should be sure to go without it. Not 
that I would have Parents purposely cross the Desires of 20 
their Children in Matters of Indifferency; on the contrary, 
where their Carriage deserves it, and one is sure it will not 
corrupt or effeminate their Minds, and make them fond of 
Trifles, I think all Things should be contriv d, as much as 
could be, to their Satisfaction, that they may find the Ease 25 
and Pleasure of doing well. The best for Children is that 
they should not place any Pleasure in such Things at all, 
nor regulate their Delight by their Fancies, but be indifferent 
to all that Nature has made so. This is what their Parents 
and Teachers should chiefly aim at; but till this be obtain d, 30 
all that I oppose here, is the Liberty of Asking, which in 
these Things of Conceit ought to be restrain d by a constant 
Forfeiture annex d to it. 

This may perhaps be thought a little too severe by the 
natural Indulgence of tender Parents; but yet it is no more 35 
than necessary: For since the Method I propose is to 
banish the Rod, this Restraint of their Tongues will be of 
great Use to settle that Awe we have elsewhere spoken of, 
and to keep up in them the Respect and Reverence due to 
their Parents. Next, it will teach to keep in, and so master 40 
their Inclinations. By this Means they will be brought to 

86 Teaching of Self-restraint. [ 107 

learn the Art of stifling their Desires, as soon as they rise up 
in them, when they are easiest to be subdu d. For giving 
Vent, gives Life and Strength to our Appetites ; and he that 
has the Confidence to turn his Wishes into Demands, will 
5 be but a little Way from thinking he ought to obtain them. 
This, I am sure, every one can more easily bear a Denial 
from himself, than from any Body else. They should there 
fore be accustom d betimes to consult, and make Use of 
their Reason, before they give Allowance to their Inclina- 

10 tions. Tis a great Step towards the Mastery of our Desires, 
to give this Stop to them, and shut them up in Silence. 
This Habit got by Children, of staying the Forwardness of 
their Fancies, and deliberating whether it be fit or no, 
before they speak, will be of no small Advantage to them 

15 in Matters of greater Consequence, in the future Course of 
their Lives. For that which I cannot too often inculcate, is, 
that whatever the Matter be about which it is conversant, 
whether great or small, the main (I had almost said only) 
Thing to be consider d in every Action of a Child, is, what 

20 Influence it will have upon his Mind ; what Habit it tends 
to, and is like to settle in him; how it will become him when 
he is bigger; and if it be encourag d, whither it will lead 
him when he is grown up. 

My Meaning therefore is not, that Children should 

25 purposely be made uneasy. This would relish too much 
of Inhumanity and ill Nature, and be apt to infect them 
with it. They should be brought to deny their Appetites ; 
and their Minds, as well as Bodies, be made vigorous, easy, 
and strong, by the Custom of having their Inclinations in 

30 Subjection, and their Bodies exercis d with Hardships : But 
all this, without giving them any Mark or Apprehension 
of ill Will towards them. The constant Loss of what they 
crav d or carv d to themselves, should teach them Modesty, 
Submission, and a Power to forbear : But the rewarding 

35 their Modesty, and Silence, by giving them what they 
lik d, should also assure them of the Love of those who 
rigorously exacted this Obedience. The contenting them 
selves now in the Want of what they wish d for, is a Virtue 
that another Time should be rewarded with what is suited 

40 and acceptable to them ; which should be bestow d on them 
as if it were a natural Consequence of their good Behaviour, 

io/, IQ S] Curiosity encouraged. Amusements. 87 

and not a Bargain about it. But you will lose your Labour, 
and what is more, their Love and Reverence too, if they 
can receive from others what you deny them. This is 
to be kept very staunch, and carefully to be watch d. And 
here the Servants come again in my Way. 5 

1 08. If this be begun betimes, and they accustom 
themselves early to silence their Desires, this 
useful Habit will settle them; and as they 
come to grow up in Age and Discretion, they may be 
allow d greater Liberty, when Reason comes to speak in 10 
em, and not Passion : For whenever Reason would speak, 
it should be hearken d to. But as they should never be 
heard, when they speak for any particular Thing they would 
have, unless it be first propos d to them ; so they should 
always be heard, and fairly and kindly answer d, when they 15 
ask after any Thing they would know, and desire to be 
inform d about. Curiosity should be as carefully cherish d 
in Children, as other Appetites suppress d. 

However strict an Hand is to be kept upon all Desires 
of Fancy, yet there is one Case wherein Fancy Kecreai - n 20 
must be permitted to speak, and be hearken d 
to also. Recreation is as necessary as Labour or Food. 
But because there can be no Recreation without Delight, 
which depends not always on Reason, but oftner on Fancy, 
it must be permitted Children not only to divert themselves, 25 
but to do it after their own Fashion, provided it be inno 
cently, and without Prejudice to their Health ; and therefore 
in this Case they should not be deny d, if they proposed 
any particular kind of Recreation. Tho I think in a well- 
order d Education, they will seldom be brought to the 30 
Necessity of asking any such Liberty. Care should be 
taken, that what is of Advantage to them, they should 
always do with Delight ; and before they are weary d with 
one, they should be timely diverted to some other useful 
Employment. But if they are not yet brought to that 35 
Degree of Perfection, that one Way of Improvement can 
be made a Recreation to them, they must be let loose to 
the childish Play they fancy ; which they should be wean d 
from by being made to surfeit of it : But from Things 
of Use, that they are employ d in, they should always be 40 
sent away with an Appetite; at least be dismiss d before they 

88 Free Recreations. Mutual Civility. [ ic, 109 

are tir d, and grow quite sick of it, that so they may return 
to it again, as to a Pleasure that diverts them. For you 
must never think them set right, till they can find Delight 
in the Practice of laudable Things ; and the useful Exer- 
5 cises of the Body and Mind, taking their Turns, make their 
Lives and Improvement pleasant in a continu d Train of 
Recreations, wherein the weary d Part is constantly reliev d 
and refresh d. Whether this can be done in every Temper, 
or whether Tutors and Parents will be at the Pains, and 

10 have the Discretion and Patience to bring them to this, 
I know not ; but that it may be done in most Children, 
if a right Course be taken to raise in them the Desire of 
Credit, Esteem, and Reputation, I do not at all doubt. 
And when they have so much true Life put into them, they 

15 may freely be talk d with about what most delights them, 
and be directed or let loose to it ; so that they may per 
ceive that they are belov d and cherish d, and that those 
under whose Tuition they are, are not Enemies to their 
Satisfaction. Such a Management will make them in love 

20 with the Hand that directs them, and the Virtue they are 
directed to. 

This farther Advantage may be made by a free Liberty 
permitted them in their Recreations, that it will 

Complaints. r ,. , . , r _ , , . _ 

discover their natural Tempers, shew their In- 

25 clinations and Aptitudes, and thereby direct wise Parents 
in the Choice both of the Course of Life and Employ 
ment they shall design them for, and of fit Remedies, in 
the mean time, to be apply d to whatever Bent of Nature 
they may observe most likely to mislead any of their 

30 Children. 

109. 2. Children who live together, often strive for 
Mastery, whose Wills shall carry it over the rest : Whoever 
begins the Contest, should be sure to be cross d in it. But 
not only that, but they should be taught to have all the 

35 Deference, Complaisance, and Civility one for the other imagin 
able. This, when they see it procures them Respect, Love 
and Esteem, and that they lose no Superiority by it, they 
will take more Pleasure in, than in insolent Domineering ; 
for so plainly is the other. 

4 The Accusations of Children one against another, which 
usually are but the Clamours of Anger and Revenge de- 

io9, no] No tale-bearing. Reward Liberality. 89 

siring Aid, should not be favourably received, nor hearken d 
to. It weakens and effeminates their Minds to suffer them 
to complain ; and if they endure sometimes crossing or Pain 
from others without being permitted to think it strange or 
intolerable, it will do them no harm to learn sufferance, and 5 
harden them early. But though you give no Countenance 
to the Complaints of the Querulous, yet take Care to curb 
the Insolence and ill Nature of the Injurious. When you 
observe it your self, reprove it before the injur d Party: 
But if the Complaint be of something really worth your 10 
Notice, and Prevention another time, then reprove the 
Offender by himself alone, out of sight of him that com- 
plain d, and make him go and ask Pardon, and make Repa 
ration : Which coming thus, as it were from himself, will be 
the more chearfully performed, and more kindly receiv d, 15 
the Love strengthen d between them, and a Custom of 
Civility grow familiar amongst your Children. 

no. 3. As to the having and possessing of Things, 
teach them to part with what they have, easily LiberaUt 
and freely to their Friends, and let them find 20 

by Experience that the most liberal has always the most 
Plenty, with Esteem and Commendation to boot, and they 
will quickly learn to practise it. This I imagine, will make 
Brothers and Sisters kinder and civiller to one another, 
and consequently to others, than twenty Rules about good 25 
Manners, with which Children are ordinarily perplex d and 
cumber d. Covetousness, and the Desire of having in our 
Possession, and under our Dominion, more than we have 
need of, being the Root of all Evil, should be early and 
carefully weeded out, and the contrary Quality of a Readi- 30 
ness to impart to others, implanted. This should be en- 
courag d by great Commendation and Credit, and con 
stantly taking care that he loses nothing by his Liberality. 
Let all the Instances he gives of such Freeness be always 
repay d, and with Interest ; and let him sensibly perceive, 35 
that the Kindness he shews to others, is no ill Husbandry 
for himself; but that it brings a Return of Kindness both 
from those that receive it, and those who look on. Make 
this a Contest among Children, who shall out-do one 
another this Way : And by this Means, by a constant Prac- 43 
tice, Children having made it easy to themselves to part 

90 Education in Justice. [ no 

with what they have, good Nature may be settled in them 
into an Habit, and they may take Pleasure, and pique 
themselves in being kind, liberal and civil, to others. 

If Liberality ought to be encourag d, certainly great Care 

5 . is to be taken that Children transgress not the 

tie Rules of Justice: And whenever they do, they 

should be set right, and if there be Occasion for it, severely 

rebuk d. 

Our first Actions being guided more by Self-love than 

10 Reason or Reflection, tis no wonder that in Children they 
should be very apt to deviate from the just Measures of 
Right and Wrong ; which are in the Mind the Result of 
improv d Reason and serious Meditation. This the more 
they are apt to mistake, the more careful Guard ought to be 

15 kept over them; and every the least Slip in this great social 
Virtue taken notice of, and rectify d ; and that in Things of 
the least Weight and Moment, both to instruct their Ig 
norance, and prevent ill Habits ; which from small Begin 
nings in Pins and Cherry-stones, will, if let alone, grow up 

20 to higher Frauds, and be in Danger to end at last in down 
right harden d Dishonesty. The first Tendency to any In 
justice that appears, must be suppress d with a shew of 
Wonder and Abhorrence in the Parents and Governors. 
But because Children cannot well comprehend what Injustice 

25 is, till they understand Property, and how particular Persons 
come by it, the safest Way to secure Honesty, is to lay the 
Foundations of it early in Liberality, and an Easiness to 
part with to others whatever they have or like themselves. 
This may be taught them early, before they have Language 

30 and Understanding enough to form distinct Notions of Pro 
perty, and to know what is theirs by a peculiar Right ex 
clusive of others. And since Children seldom have any 
thing but by Gift, and that for the most part from their 
Parents, they may be at first taught not to take or keep 

35 any Thing but what is given them by those, whom they take 
to have Power over it. And as their Capacities enlarge, 
other Rules and Cases of Justice, and Rights concerning 
Meum and Tuum, may be propos d and inculcated. If any 
Act of Injustice in them appears to proceed, not from Mis- 

40 take, but a Perverseness in their Wills, when a gentle Re 
buke and Shame will not reform this irregular and covetous 

no 112] Crying. 91 

Inclination, rougher Remedies must be apply d : And tis 
but for the Father or Tutor to take and keep from them 
something that they value and think their own, or order 
somebody else to do it ; and by such Instances, make them 
sensible what little Advantage they are like to make by 5 
possessing themselves unjustly of what is another s, whilst 
there are in the World stronger and more Men than they. 
But if an ingenuous Detestation of this shameful Vice be 
but carefully and early instill d into em, as I think it may, 
that is the true and genuine Method to obviate this Crime, 10 
and will be a better Guard against Dishonesty than any Con 
siderations drawn from Interest ; Habits working more con 
stantly, and with greater Facility, than Reason, which, when 
we have most need of it, is seldom fairly consulted, and 
more rarely obey d. 15 

in. Crying is a Fault that should not be tolerated in 
Children ; not only for the unpleasant and un 
becoming Noise it fills the House with, but for 
more considerable Reasons, in Reference to the Children 
themselves ; which is to be our Aim in Education. 20 

Their Crying is of two Sorts ; either stubborn and domi 
neering^ or querulous and whining. 

i. Their Crying is very often a striving for Mastery, 
and an open Declaration of their Insolence or Obstinacy; 
when they have not the Power to obtain their Desire, they 25 
will, by their Clamour and Sobbing, maintain their Title and 
Right to it. This is an avow d continuing their Claim, and 
a sort of Remonstrance against the Oppression and Injustice 
of those who deny them what they have a mind to. 

ii2. 2. Sometimes their Crying is the effect -of Pain, 30 
or true Sorrow, and a Bemoaning themselves under it. 

These two, if carefully observ d, may, by the Mien, 
Looks, Actions, and particularly by the Tone of their 
Crying, be easily distinguished ; but neither of them must 
be suffer d, much less encourag d. 35 

i. The obstinate or stomachful Crying should by no 
means be permitted, because it is but another way of 
flattering their Desires, and encouraging those Passions 
which tis our main Business to subdue : And if it be as 
often it is, upon the receiving any Correction, it quite 40 
defeats all the good Effects of it; for any Chastisement 

92 Stomachful Crying. [ 112, 113 

which leaves them in this declar d Opposition, only serves 
to make them worse. The Restraints and Punishments 
laid on Children are all misapply d and lost, as far as they 
do not prevail over their Wills, teach them to submit their 
5 Passions, and make their Minds supple and pliant to what 
their Parents Reason advises them now, and so prepare 
them to obey what their own Reason shall advise hereafter. 
But if in any Thing wherein they are cross d, they may be 
suffer d to go away crying, they confirm themselves in their 

10 Desires, and cherish the ill Humour, with a Declaration 
of their Right, and a Resolution to satisfy their Inclination 
the first Opportunity. This therefore is another Argument 
against the frequent Use of Blows : For, whenever you 
come to that Extremity, tis not enough to whip or beat 

15 them, you must do it, till you find you have subdu d their 
Minds, till with Submission and Patience they yield to the 
Correction ; which you shall best discover by their Crying, 
and their ceasing from it upon your Bidding. Without 
this, the beating of Children is but a passionate Tyranny 

20 over them ; and it is mere Cruelty, and not Correction, 
to put their Bodies in Pain, without doing their Minds 
any Good. As this gives us a Reason why Children should 
seldom be corrected, so it also prevents their being so. 
For if, whenever they are chastis d, it were done thus with- 

25 out Passion, soberly, and yet effectually too, laying on the 
Blows and Smart not furiously, and all at once, but slowly, 
with Reasoning between, and with Observation how it 
wrought, stopping when it had made them pliant, penitent 
and yielding; they would seldom need the like Punishment 

30 again, being made careful to avoid the Fault that deserv d 
it. Besides, by this Means, as the Punishment would not 
be lost for being too little, and not effectual, so it would 
be kept from being too much, if we gave off as soon as 
we perceiv d that it reach d the Mind, and that was better d. 

35 For since the Chiding or Beating of Children should be 
always the least that possibly may be, that which is laid 
on in the Heat of Anger, seldom observes that Measure, 
but is commonly more than it should be, though it prove 
less than enough. 

40 113. 2. Many children are apt to cry, upon any 
little Pain they suffer, and the least Harm that befals them 

ii 3 , H4] Stop Whining. 93 

puts them into Complaints and Bawling. This few Chil 
dren avoid : For it being the first and natural Way to de 
clare their Sufferings or Wants, before they can speak, the 
Compassion that is thought due to that tender Age foolishly 
encourages, and continues it in them long after they can 5 
speak. ; Tis the Duty, I confess, of those about Children, 
to compassionate them, whenever they suffer any Hurt; 
but not to shew it in pitying them. Help and ease them 
the best you can, but by no means bemoan them. This 
softens their Minds, and makes them yield to the little 10 
Harms that happen to them ; whereby they sink deeper 
into that Part which alone feels, and makes larger Wounds 
there, than otherwise they would. They should be har 
den d against all Sufferings, especially of the Body, and 
have no Tenderness but what rises from an ingenuous 15 
Shame, and a quick Sense of Reputation. The many In 
conveniences this Life is expos d to, require we should 
not be too sensible of every little Hurt. What our Minds 
yield not to, makes but a slight Impression, and does us 
but very little Harm. Tis the suffering of our Spirits that 20 
gives and continues the Pain. This Brawniness and In 
sensibility of Mind, is the best Armour we can have against 
the common Evils and Accidents of Life; and being a 
Temper that is to be got by Exercise and Custom, more 
than any other way, the Practice of it should be begun 25 
betimes; and happy is he that is taught it early. That 
Effeminacy of Spirit, which is to be prevented or cured, 
as nothing that I know so much increases in Children as 
Crying ; so nothing, on the other Side, so much checks 
and restrains, as their being hinder d from that sort of 30 
complaining. In the little Harms they suffer from Knocks 
and Falls, they should not be pitied for falling, but bid 
do so again; which besides that it stops their Crying, is 
a better Way to cure their Heedlessness, and prevent their 
tumbling another Time, than either chiding or bemoaning 35 
them. But, let the Hurts they receive be what they will, 
stop their Crying, and that will give them more Quiet and 
Ease at present, and harden them for the future. 

114. The former sort of Crying requires Severity to 
silence it; and where a Look, or a positive Command will 40 
not do it, Blows must : For it proceeding from Pride, Obsti- 

94 Cases of Fool-hardiness. [ 114, 115 

nacy, and Stomach, the Will, where the Fault lies, must be 
bent, and made to comply, by a Rigour sufficient to master 
it. But this latter being ordinarily from Softness of Mind, 
a quite contrary Cause, ought to be treated with a gentler 
5 Hand. Persuasion, or diverting the Thoughts another Way, 
or Laughing at their Whining, may perhaps be at first the. 
proper Method : But for this, the Circumstances of the 
Thing, and the particular Temper of the Child, must be 
considered. No certain unvariable Rules can be given 

10 about it; but it must be left to the Prudence of the Parents 
or Tutor. But this, I think, I may say in general, that there 
should be a constant discountenancing of this sort of Crying 
also; and that the Father, by his Authority, should always 
stop it, mixing a greater Degree of Roughness in his Looks 

1 5 or Words, proportionably as the Child is of a greater Age, 
or a sturdier Temper: But always let it be enough to silence 
their Whimpering, and put an end to the Disorder. 

115. Cowardice and Courage are so nearly related to 
the foremention d Tempers, that it may not be 

20 ness. am iss here to take Notice of them. Fear is a 

Passion that, if rightly governed, has its Use. 

And though Self-love seldom fails to keep it watchful and 

high enough in us, yet there may be an Excess on the 

daring Side ; Fool-hardiness and Insensibility of Danger 

25 being as little reasonable, as trembling and shrinking at the 
Approach of every little Evil. Fear was given us as a 
Monitor to quicken our Industry, and keep us upon our 
Guard against the Approaches of Evil; and therefore to 
have no Apprehension of Mischief at Hand, not to make a 

30 just Estimate of the Danger, but heedlessly to run into it, 
be the Hazard what it will, without considering of what Use 
or Consequence it may be, is not the Resolution of a 
rational Creature, but brutish Fury. Those who have 
Children of this Temper, have nothing to do, but a little to 

35 awaken their Reason, which Self-preservation will quickly 
dispose them to hearken to, unless (which is usually the 
Case) some other Passion hurries them on head-long, with 
out Sense and without Consideration. A Dislike of Evil is 
so natural to Mankind, that no body, I think, can be with- 

40 out Fear of it: Fear being nothing but an Uneasiness under 
the Apprehension of that coming upon us, which we dislike. 

115] True Courage. 95 

And therefore, whenever any one runs into Danger, we may 
say, tis under the Conduct of Ignorance, or the Command 
of some more imperious Passion, no body being so much an 
Enemy to himself, as to come within the Reach of Evil, out 
of free Choice, and court Danger for Danger s sake. If it 5 
be therefore Pride, Vain-glory, or Rage, that silences a 
Child s Fear, or makes him not hearken to its Advice, those 
are by fit Means to be abated, that a little Consideration 
may allay his Heat, and make him bethink himself, whether 
this Attempt be worth the Venture. But this being a Fault 10 
that Children are not so often guilty of, I shall not be more 
particular in its Cure. Weakness of Spirit is the more com 
mon Defect, and therefore will require the greater Care. 

Fortitude is the Guard and Support of the other Virtues; 
and without Courage a Man will scarce keep . 15 

steady to his Duty, and fill up the Character 
of a truly worthy Man. 

Courage, that makes us bear up against Dangers that 
we fear and Evils that we feel, is of great Use 
in an Estate, as ours is in this Life, expos d to urafe 20 
Assaults on all hands: And therefore it is very advisable to 
get Children into this Armour as early as we can. Natural 
Temper, I confess, does here a great deal : But even where 
that is defective, and the Heart is in it self weak and timor 
ous, it may, by a right Management, be brought to a better 25 
Resolution. What is to be done to prevent breaking Child 
ren s Spirits by frightful Apprehensions instill d into them when 
young, or bemoaning themselves under every little Suffering, 
I have already taken notice; how to harden their Tempers, 
and raise their Courage, if we find them too much subject to 30 
Fear, is farther to be consider d. 

True Fortitude, I take to be the quiet Possession of a 
Man s self, and an undisturb d doing his Duty, whatever 
Evil besets, or Danger lies in his Way. This there are so 
few Men attain to, that we are not to expect it from Chil- 35 
dren. But yet something may be done : And a wise 
Conduct by insensible Degrees may carry them farther than 
one expects. 

The neglect of this great Care of them, whilst they are 
young, is the Reason, perhaps, why there are so few that 40 
have this Virtue in it s full Latitude when they are Men. 

96 Cowardice due to Education. [ 115 

I should not say this in a Nation so naturally brave, as ours 
is, did I think that true Fortitude required nothing but 
Courage in the Field, and a Contempt of Life in the Face 
of an Enemy. This, I confess, is not the least part of it, 
5 nor can be denied the Laurels and Honours always justly 
due to the Valour of those who venture their Lives for their 
Country. But yet this is not all. Dangers attack us in 
other Places besides the Field of Battle; and though Death 
be the King of Terrors, yet Pain, Disgrace and Poverty, 

10 have frightful Looks, able to discompose most Men whom 
they seem ready to seize on : And there are those who con 
temn some of these, and yet are heartily frighted with the 
other. True Fortitude is prepar d for Dangers of all kinds, 
and unmoved, whatsoever Evil it be that threatens. I do 

15 not mean unmoved with any Fear at all. Where Danger 
shews it self, Apprehension cannot, without Stupidity, be 
wanting: Where Danger is, Sense of Danger should be; and 
so much Fear as should keep us awake, and excite our Atten 
tion, Industry, and Vigour; but not disturb the calm Use of 

20 our Reason, nor hinder the Execution of what that dictates. 

The first Step to get this noble and manly Steadiness, is, 

what I have above mentioned, carefully to keep 

Children from Frights of all kinds, when they 

are young. Let not any fearful Apprehensions be talk d 

25 into them, nor terrible Objects surprize them. This often 
so shatters and discomposes the Spirits, that they never re 
cover it again; but during their whole Life, upon the first 
Suggestion or Appearance of any terrifying Idea, are scat- 
ter d and confounded ; the Body is enervated, and the Mind 

30 disturb d, and the Man scarce himself, or capable of any 
composed or rational Action. Whether this be from an 
habitual Motion of the animal Spirits, introduc d by the first 
strong Impression, or from the Alteration of the Constitution 
by some more unaccountable way, this is certain, that so it 

35 is. Instances of such who in a weak timorous Mind, have 
borne, all their whole Lives through, the Effects of a Fright 
when they were young, are every where to be seen, and there 
fore as much as may be to be prevented. 

The next thing is by gentle Degrees to accustom 

40 Children to those things they are too much afraid of. But 
here great Caution is to be used, that you do not make too 

115] What is Fear? 97 

much Haste, nor attempt this Cure too early, for fear lest 
you increase the Mischief instead of remedying it. Little 
ones in Arms may be easily kept out of the way of terrifying 
Objects, and till they can talk and understand what is said 
to them, are scarce capable of that Reasoning and Dis- 5 
course which should be used to let them know there is no 
harm in those frightful Objects, which we would make them 
familiar with, and do, to that Purpose by gentle Degrees 
bring nearer and nearer to them. And therefore tis seldom 
there is need of any Application to them of this kind, till 10 
after they can run about and talk. But yet, if it should 
happen that Infants should have taken Offence at any thing 
which cannot be easily kept out of their way, and that they 
shew Marks of Terror as often as it comes in sight; all 
the Allays of Fright, by diverting their Thoughts, or mixing 1 5 
pleasant and agreeable Appearances with it, must be used, 
till it be grown familiar and inoffensive to them. 

I think we may observe, That, when Children are first 
born, all Objects of Sight that do not hurt the Eyes, are 
indifferent to them; and they are no more afraid of a 20 
Blackamoor or a Lion, than of their Nurse or a Cat. What 
is it then, that afterwards, in certain Mixtures of Shape and 
Colour, comes to affright them ? Nothing but the Appre 
hensions of Harm that accompanies those things. Did a 
Child suck every Day a new Nurse, I make account it 25 
would be no more affrighted with the change of Faces at 
six Months old, than at sixty. The Reason then why it will 
not come to a Stranger, is, because having been accustomed 
to receive its Food and kind Usage only from one or two 
that are about it, the Child apprehends, by coming into the 30 
Arms of a Stranger, the being taken from what delights and 
feeds it and every Moment supplies its Wants, which it 
often feels, and therefore fears when the Nurse is away. 

The only thing we naturally are afraid of is Pain, 
or Loss of Pleasure. And because these are TimorousnesSf 35 
not annexed to any Shape, Colour, or Size of 
visible Objects, we are frighted with none of them, till either 
we have felt Pain from them, or have Notions put into us 
that they will do us Harm. The pleasant Brightness and 
Lustre of Flame and Fire so delights Children, that at first 40 
they always desire to be handling of it : But when constant 

98 Education to Courage. [ 115 

Experience has convinced them, by the exquisite Pain it 
has put them to, how cruel and unmerciful it is, they are 
afraid to touch it, and carefully avoid it. This being the 
Ground of Fear, tis not hard to find whence it arises, and 
5 how it is to be cured in all mistaken Objects of Terror. 
And when the Mind is confirai d against them, and has got a 
Mastery over it self and its usual Fears in lighter Occa 
sions, it is in good Preparation to meet more real Dangers. 
Your Child shrieks, and runs away at the Sight of a Frog; 

10 let another catch it, and lay it down at a good Distance 
from him: At first accustom him to look upon it : when he 
can do that, then to come nearer to it, and see it leap with 
out Emotion ; then to touch it lightly, when it is held fast 
in another s Hand; and so on, till he can come to handle it 

1 5 as confidently as a Butterfly or a Sparrow. By the same 
way any other vain Terrors may be remov d; if care be 
taken, that you go not too fast, and push not the Child on to 
a new Degree of Assurance, till he be thoroughly confirm d 
in the former. And thus the young Soldier is to be train d 

20 on to the Warfare of Life; wherein Care is to be taken, 
that more things be not represented as dangerous than 
really are so; and then, that whatever you observe him to 
be more frighted at than he should, you be sure to tole him 
on to by insensible Degrees, till he at last, quitting his 

25 Fears, masters the Difficulty, and comes off with Applause. 
Successes of this Kind, often repeated, will make him find, 
that Evils are not always so certain or so great as our 
Fears represent them; and that the way to avoid them, is 
not to run away, or be discompos d, dejected, and deterr d 

30 by Fear, where either our Credit or Duty requires us to 
go on. 

But since the great Foundation of Fear in Children is 
Pain, the way to harden and fortify Children 

Hardiness. . J . . J . 

against tear and Danger is to accustom them 
35 to suffer Pain. This tis possible will be thought, by kind 
Parents, a very unnatural thing towards their Children ; and 
by most, unreasonable, to endeavour to reconcile any one to 
the Sense of Pain, by bringing it upon him. Twill be said : 
It may perhaps give the Child an Aversion for him that 
40 makes him suffer; but can never recommend to him Suf 
fering itself. This is a strange Method. You will not 

115] Hardening by voluntary Pain. 99 

have Children whipp d and punish d for their Faults, but 
you would have them tormented for doing well, or for 
tormenting sake. I doubt not but such Objections as these 
will be made, and I shall be thought inconsistent with my 
self, or fantastical, in proposing it. I confess, it is a thing 5 
to be managed with great Discretion, and therefore it falls 
not out amiss, that it will not be receiv d or relish d, but by 
those who consider well, and look into the Reason of 
Things. I would not have Children much beaten for their 
Faults, because I would not have them think bodily Pain the 10 
greatest Punishment: And I would have them, when they do 
well, be sometimes put in Pain, for the same Reason, that 
they might be accustom d to bear it, without looking on it as 
the greatest Evil. How much Education may reconcile 
young People to Pain and Sufferance, the Examples of 15 
Sparta do sufficiently shew: And they who have once 
brought themselves not to think bodily Pain the greatest of 
Evils, or that which they ought to stand most in fear of, 
have made no small Advance towards Virtue. But I am not 
so foolish to propose the Lacedemonian Discipline in our 20 
Age or Constitution. But yet I do say, that inuring Chil 
dren gently to suffer some Degrees of Pain without shrink 
ing, is a way to gain Firmness to their Minds, and lay a 
Foundation for Courage and Resolution in the future Part of 
their Lives. 25 

Not to bemoan them, or permit them to bemoan them 
selves, on every little Pain they suffer, is the first Step to be 
made. But of this I have spoken elsewhere. 

The next thing is, sometimes designedly to put them in 
Pain : But care must be taken that this be done when the 
Child is in good Humour, and satisfied of the Good-will and 
Kindness of him that hurts him, at the time that he does it. 
There must no Marks of Anger or Displeasure on the one 
side, nor Compassion or Repenting on the other, go along 
with it : And it must be sure to be no more than the Child 
can bear without repining or taking it amiss, or for a Pun 
ishment. Managed by these Degrees, and with such Cir 
cumstances, I have seen a Child run away laughing with 
good smart Blows of a Wand on his Back, who would have 
cried for an unkind Word, and have been very sensible of the 
Chastisement of a cold Look, from the same Person. Satisfy 


ioo How Courage may be trained. [ 115, 116 

a Child by a constant Course of your Care and Kindness, 
that you perfectly love him, and he may by Degrees be 
accustom d to bear very painful and rough Usage from you, 
without flinching or complaining: And this we see Children 
5 do every Day in play one with another. The softer you 
find your Child is, the more you are to seek Occasions, at 
fit times, thus to harden him. The great Art in this is, to 
begin with what is but very little painful, and to proceed by 
insensible Degrees, when you are playing, and in good 

10 Humour with him, and speaking well of him: And when you 
have once got him to think himself made amends for his 
Suffering by the Praise is given him for his Courage; when 
he can take a Pride in giving such Marks of his Manliness, 
and can prefer the Reputation of being Pjrave and Stout, to 

15 the avoiding a little Pain, or the Shrinking under it; you 
need not despair in time and by the Assistance of his grow 
ing Reason, to master his Timorousness, and mend the 
Weakness of his Constitution. As he grows bigger, he is 
to be set upon bolder Attempts than his natural Temper 

20 carries him to ; and whenever he is observ d to flinch from 
what one has reason to think he would come off well in, if 
he had but Courage to undertake, that he should be 
assisted in at first, and by Degrees sham d to, till at last 
Practice has given more Assurance, and with it a Mastery ; 

25 which must be rewarded with great Praise, and the good 
Opinion of others, for his Performance. When by these 
Steps he has got Resolution enough not to be deterr d from 
what he ought to do, by the Apprehension of Danger; when 
Fear does not, in sudden or hazardous Occurrences, dis- 

30 compose his Mind, set his Body a-trembling, and make him 
unfit for Action, or run away from it, he has then the 
Courage of a rational Creature: And such an Hardiness we 
Should endeavour by Custom and Use to bring Children to, 
as proper Occasions come in our way. 

35 1 1 6. One thing I have frequently observ d in Chil- 
Crucit dren, that when they have got Possession of any 
poor Creature, they are apt to use it ill : They 
often torment, and treat very roughly, young Birds, Butter 
flies, and such other poor Animals which fall into their 

40 Hands, and that with a seeming kind of Pleasure. This I 
think should be watched in them, and if they incline to 

n6] Prevent Cruelty and Mischief. 101 

any such Cruelty, they should be taught the contrary Usage. 
For the Custom of tormenting and killing of Beasts, will, 
by Degrees, harden their Minds even towards Men; and 
they who delight in the Suffering and Destruction of inferior 
Creatures, will not be apt to be very compassionate or 5 
benign to those of their own kind. Our Practice takes 
notice of this in the Exclusion of Butchers from Juries of 
Life and Death. Children should from the beginning be 
bred up in an Abhorrence of killing or tormenting any 
living Creature; and be taught not to spoil or destroy any 10 
thing, unless it be for the Preservation or Advantage of 
some other that is nobler. And truly, if the Preservation 
of all Mankind, as much as in him lies, were every one s 
Persuasion, as indeed it is every one s Duty, and the true 
Principle to regulate our Religion, Politicks and Morality 15 
by, the World would be much quieter, and better natur d 
than it is. But to return to our present Business; I cannot 
but commend both the Kindness and Prudence of a Mother 
I knew, who was wont always to indulge her Daughters, 
when any of them desired Dogs, Squirrels, Birds, or any 20 
such things as young Girls use to be delighted with : But 
then, when they had them, they must be sure to keep them 
well, and look diligently after them, that they wanted 
nothing, or were not ill used. For if they were negligent 
in their Care of them, it was counted a great Fault, which 25 
often forfeited their Possession, or at least they fail d not to 
be rebuked for it ; whereby they were early taught Diligence 
and good Nature. And indeed, I think People should be 
accustomed, from their Cradles, to be tender to all sensible 
Creatures, and to spoil or waste nothing at all. 30 

This Delight they take in doing of Mischief, whereby 
I mean spoiling of any thing to no purpose, but more 
especially the Pleasure they take to put any thing in Pain, 
that is capable of it ; I cannot persuade my self to be any 
other than a foreign and introduced Disposition, an Habit 35 
borrowed from Custom and Conversation. People teach 
Children to strike, and laugh when they hurt or see Harm 
come to others : And they have the Examples of most 
about them, to confirm them in it. All the Entertainment 
and Talk of History is of nothing almost but Fighting and 40 
Killing : And the Honour and Renown that is bestowed 

io2 Cruelty not from Nature but Habit. [116,117 

on Conquerors (who for the most part are but the great 
Butchers of Mankind) farther mislead growing Youth, who 
by this means come to think Slaughter the laudable Busi 
ness of Mankind, and the most heroick of Virtues. By 
5 these Steps unnatural Cruelty is planted in us ; and what 
Humanity abhors, Custom reconciles and recommends to 
us, by laying it in the way to Honour. Thus, by Fashion 
and Opinion, that comes to be a Pleasure, which in it self 
neither is, nor can be any. This ought carefully to be 

10 watched, and early remedied; so as to settle and cherish 
the contrary and more natural Temper of Benignity and 
Compassion in the room of it ; but still by the same gentle 
Methods which are to be applied to the other two Faults 
beforemention d. It may not perhaps be unreasonable here 

15 to add this farther Caution, viz, That the Mischiefs or 
Harms that come by Play, Inadvertency, or Ignorance, 
and were not known to be Harms, or design d for Mischief s 
sake, though they may perhaps be sometimes of consider 
able Damage, yet are not at all, or but very gently, to be 

20 taken notice of. For this, I think, I cannot too often 
inculcate, That whatever Miscarriage a Child is guilty of, 
and whatever be the Consequence of it, the thing to be 
regarded in taking Notice of it, is only what Root it springs 
from, and what Habit it is like to establish : And to that 

25 the Correction ought to be directed, and the Child not to 
suffer any Punishment for any Harm which may have come 
by his Play or Inadvertency. The faults to be amended lie 
in the Mind ; and if they are such as either Age will cure, 
or no ill Habits will follow from, the present Action, what- 

30 ever displeasing Circumstances it may have, is to be passed 
by without any Animadversion. 

117. Another way to instill Sentiments of Humanity, 
and to keep them lively in young Folks, will be, to accus 
tom them to Civility in their Language and Deportment 

35 towards their Inferiors and the meaner sort of People, 
particularly Servants. It is not unusual to observe the 
Children in Gentlemen s Families treat the Servants of the 
House with domineering Words, Names of Contempt, and 
an imperious Carriage ; as if they were of another Race 

40 and Species beneath them. Whether ill Example, the 
Advantage of Fortune, or their natural Vanity, inspire this 

ii7,n8] Manners to Servants. Curiosity again. 103 

Haughtiness, it should be prevented, or weeded out ; and a 
gentle, courteous, affable Carriage towards the lower Ranks 
of Men, placed in the room of it. No part of their Supe 
riority will be hereby lost; but the Distinction increased, 
and their Authority strengthen d ; when Love in Inferiors 5 
is join d to outward Respect, and an Esteem of the Person 
has a Share in their Submission : And Domesticks will pay 
a more ready and chearful Service, when they find them 
selves not spum d because Fortune has laid them below 
the Level of others at their Master s Feet. Children should 10 
not be suffer d to lose the Consideration of human Nature 
in the Shufflings of outward Conditions. The more they 
have, the better humour d they should be taught to be, and 
the more compassionate and gentle to those of their Breth- 
ren who are placed lower, and have scantier Portions. If 1 5 
they are suffer d from their Cradles to treat Men ill and 
rudely, because, by their Father s Title, they think they 
have a little Power over them, at best it is ill-bred; and if 
Care be not taken, will by Degrees nurse up their natural 
Pride into an habitual Contempt of those beneath them. 20 
And where will that probably end but in Oppression and 
Cruelty ? 

1 1 8. Curiosity in Children (which I had Occasion 
just to mention 108.) is but an Appetite after _ . . 
Knowledge; and therefore ought to be encou- 25 

raged in them, not only as a good Sign, but as the great 
Instrument Nature has provided to remove that Ignorance 
they were born with ; and which, without this busy Inquisi- 
tiveness, will mak e them dull and useless Creatures. The 
ways to encourage it, and keep it active and busy, are, I 30 
suppose, these following : 

i. Not to check or discountenance any Enquiries he 
shall make, nor suffer them to be laugh d at ; but to answer 
all his Questions, and explain the Matter he desires to know, 
so as to make them as much intelligible to him as suits the 35 
Capacity of his Age and Knowledge. But confound not 
his Understanding with Explications or Notions that are 
above it ; or with the Variety or Number of things that are 
not to his present Purpose. Mark what tis his Mind aims 
at in the Question, and not what Words he expresses it in : 40 
And when you have informed and satisfied him in that, you 

104 Knowledge a Pleasure. [ 118 120 

shall see how his Thoughts will enlarge themselves, and 
how by fit Answers he may be led on farther than perhaps 
you could imagine. For Knowledge is grateful to the 
Understanding, as Light to the Eyes : Children are pleased 
5 and delighted with it exceedingly, especially if they see 
that their Enquiries are regarded, and that their desire of 
Knowing is encouraged and commended. And I doubt 
not but one great Reason why many Children abandon 
themselves wholly to silly Sports, and trifle away all their 

10 Time insipidly, is, because they have found their Curiosity 
baulk d, and their Enquiries neglected. But had they been 
treated with more Kindness and Respect, and their Ques 
tions answered, as they should, to their Satisfaction ; I 
doubt not but they would have taken more Pleasure in 

15 Learning, and improving their Knowledge, wherein there 
would be still Newness and Variety, which is what they are 
delighted with, than in returning over and over to the same 
Play and Play-things. 

119. 2. To this serious answering their Questions, 

20 and informing their Understandings, in what they desire, as 
if it were a Matter that needed it, should be added some 
peculiar Ways of Commendation. Let others whom they 
esteem, be told before their Faces of the Knowledge they 
have in such and such things ; and since we are all, even 

25 from our Cradles, vain and proud Creatures, let their Vanity 
be flatter d with Things that will do them good; and let 
their Pride set them on work on something which may turn 
to their Advantage. Upon this Ground you shall find, that 
there cannot be a greater Spur to the attaining what you 

30 would have the Eldest learn, and know himself, than to set 
him upon teaching it his younger Brothers and Sisters. 

120. 3. As Children s Enquiries are not to be 
slighted ; so also great Care is to be taken, that they never 
receive deceitful and eluding Answers. They easily perceive 

35 when they are slighted or deceived ; and quickly learn the 
Trick of Neglect, Dissimulation and Falshood, which they 
observe others to make use of. We are not to intrench 
upon Truth in any Conversation, but least of all with 
Children; since if we play false with them, we not only 

40 deceive their Expectation, and hinder their Knowledge, 
but corrupt their Innocence, and teach them the worst of 

i2o] Children s Questions. 105 

Vices. They are Travellers newly arrived in a strange 
Country, of which they know nothing; we should there 
fore make Conscience not to mislead them. And though 
their Questions seem sometimes not very material, yet they 
should be seriously answer d : For however they may appear 5 
to us (to whom they are long since known) Enquiries not 
worth the making; they are of Moment to those who are 
wholly ignorant. Children are Strangers to all we are ac 
quainted with ; and all the things they meet with, are at 
first unknown to them, as they once were to us : And 10 
happy are they who meet with civil People, that will com 
ply with their Ignorance, and help them to get out of it. 

If you or I now should be set down in Japan, with 
all our Prudence and Knowledge about us, a Conceit 
whereof makes us, perhaps, so apt to slight the Thoughts 15 
and Enquiries of Children ; should we, I say, be set down 
in Japan, we should, no doubt (if we would inform our 
selves of what is there to be known) ask a thousand Ques 
tions, which, to a supercilious or inconsiderate Japaner, 
would seem very idle and impertinent ; though to us they 20 
would be very material and of Importance to be resolved; 
and we should be glad to find a Man so complaisant and 
courteous, as to satisfy our Demands, and instruct our 

When any new thing comes in their way, Children 25 
usually ask the common Question of a Stranger: What is it? 
Whereby they ordinarily mean nothing but the Name; and 
therefore to tell them how it is call d, is usually the proper 
Answer to that Demand. And the next Question usually 
is, What is it for ? And to this it should be answered truly 30 
and directly: The Use of the Thing should be told, and the 
way explained, how it serves to such a Purpose, as far as 
their Capacities can comprehend it. And so of any other 
Circumstances they shall ask about it; not turning them 
going, till you have given them all the Satisfaction they are 35 
capable of; and so leading them by your Answers into 
farther Questions. And perhaps to a grown Man, such 
Conversation will not be altogether so idle and insignificant 
as we are apt to imagine. The native and untaught Sugges 
tions of inquisitive Children do often offer things, that may 40 
set a considering Man s Thoughts on Work. And I think 

io6 Children s Reasoning. [ 120 123 

there is frequently more to be learn d from the unexpected 
Questions of a Child, than the Discourses of Men, who talk 
in a Road, according to the Notions they have borrowed, 
and the Prejudices of their Education. 

5 121. 4. Perhaps it may not sometimes be amiss to 
excite their Curiosity by bringing strange and new things in 
their way, on purpose to engage their Enquiry, and give 
them Occasion to inform themselves about them : And if by 
chance their Curiosity leads them to ask what they should 

10 not know, it is a great deal better to tell them plainly, that 
it is a thing that belongs not to them to know, than to pop 
them off Avith a Falshood or a frivolous Answer. 

122. Pertncss, that appears sometimes so early, pro 
ceeds from a Principle that seldom accompanies a strong 

15 Constitution of Body, or ripens into a strong Judgment of 
Mind. If it were desirable to have a Child a more brisk 
Talker, I believe there might be ways found to make him 
so : But I suppose a wise Father had rather that his Son 
should be able and useful, when a Man, than pretty Com- 

20 pany, and a Diversion to others, whilst a Child : Though if 
that too were to be consider d, I think I may say, there is 
not so much Pleasure to have a Child prattle agreeably, as 
to reason well. Encourage therefore his Inquisitiveness all 
you can, by satisfying his Demands, and informing his Judg- 

25 ment, as far as it is capable. When his Reasons are any 
way tolerable, let him find the Credit and Commendation of 
it : And when they are quite out of the way, let him, with 
out being laugh d at for his Mistake, be gently put into the 
right; and if he shew a Forwardness to be reasoning about 

30 Things that come in his way, take care, as much as you can, 
that no body check this Inclination in him, or mislead it by 
captious or fallacious ways of talking with him. For when 
all is done, this, as the highest and most important Faculty 
of our Minds, deserves the greatest Care and Attention in 

35 cultivating it : The right Improvement, and Exercise of our 
Reason being the highest Perfection that a Man can attain 
to in this Life. 

123. Contrary to this busy inquisitive Temper, there 
is sometimes observable in Children, a listless 

^ Q Sauntering. (^ are i essnesS) a wan t of Regard to any thing, and 

a sort of trifling even at their Business. This sauntring 

123, I2 4] Sauntering. 107 

Humour I look on as one of the worst Qualities can appear 
in a Child, as well as one of the hardest to be cured, where 
it is natural. But it being liable to be mistaken in some 
Cases, Care must be taken to make a right Judgment con 
cerning that trifling at their Books or Business, which may 5 
sometimes be complained of in a Child. Upon the first 
Suspicion a Father has, that his Son is of a sauntring 
Temper, he must carefully observe him, whether he be 
listless and indifferent in all in his Actions, or whether in 
some things alone he be slow and sluggish, but in others 10 
vigorous and eager. For tho we find that he does loiter at 
his Book, and let a good deal of the time he spends in his 
Chamber or Study, run idly away ; he must not presently 
conclude, that this is from a sauntring Humour in his 
Temper. It may be childishness, and a preferring something 15 
to his Study, which his Thoughts run on : And he dislikes 
his Book, as is natural, because it is forced upon him as a 
Task. To know this perfectly, you must watch him at Play, 
when he is out of his Place and Time of Study, following 
his own Inclinations ; and see there whether he be stirring 2 o 
and active; whether he designs any thing, and with Labour 
and Eagerness pursues it, till he has accomplished what he 
aimed at, or whether he lazily and listlesly dreams away his 
Time. If this Sloth be only when he is about his Book, 
I think it may be easily cured. If it be in his Temper, it 25 
will require a little more Pains and Attention to remedy it. 

124. If you are satisfied by his Earnestness at play, 
or any thing else he sets his Mind on, in the Intervals be 
tween his Hours of Business, that he is not of himself in 
clined to Laziness, but that only want of Relish of his Book 30 
makes him negligent and sluggish in his Application to it ; 
the first Step is to try by talking to him kindly of the Folly 
and Inconvenience of it, whereby he loses a good Part of 
his Time, which he might have for his Diversion : But be 
sure to talk calmly and kindly, and not much at first, but 35 
only these plain Reasons in short. If this prevails, you 
have gain d the Point in the most desirable Way, which is 
that of Reason and Kindness. If this softer Application 
prevails not, try to shame him out of it, by laughing at him 
for it, asking every Day, when he comes to Table, if there 40 
be no Strangers there, How long he was that Day about his 

toS How to deal with Listlessness. [ 124, 125 

Business: And if he has not done it in the time he might 
be well supposed to have dispatched it, expose and turn 
him into ridicule for it ; but mix no chiding, only put on a 
pretty cold Brow towards him, and keep it till he reform; 
5 and let his Mother, Tutor, and all about him do so too. If 
this work not the Effect you desire, then tell him he shall 
be no longer troubled with a Tutor to take Care of his Edu 
cation, you will not be at the Charge to have him spend his 
Time idly with him ; but since he prefers This or That 

10 [whatever Play he delights in] to his Book, that only he 
shall do ; and so in earnest set him to work on his beloved 
Play, and keep him steadily, and in earnest, to it Morning 
and Afternoon, till he be fully surfeited, and would, at any 
rate, change it for some Hours at his Book again. But 

15 when you thus set him his Task of Play, you must be sure 
to look after him your self, or set some Body else to do it, 
that may constantly see him employed in it, and that he be 
not permitted to be idle at that too. I say, your self look 
after him; for it is worth the Father s while, whatever Busi- 

20 ness he has, to bestow two or three Days upon his Son, to 
cure so great a Mischief as his sauntring at his Business. 

125. This is what I propose, if it be Idleness, not 
from his general Temper, but a peculiar or acquir d Aver 
sion to Learning, which you must be careful to examine and 

25 distinguish. But though you have your Eyes upon him, to 
watch what he does with the Time which he has at his own 
Disposal, yet you must not let him perceive that you or any 
body else do so ; for that may hinder him from following 
his own Inclination, which he being full of, and not daring, 

30 for fear of you, to prosecute what his Head and Heart are 
set upon, he may neglect all other Things, which then he 
relishes not, and so may seem to be idle and listless, when 
in Truth it is nothing but being intent on that, which the 
fear of your Eye or Knowledge keeps him from executing. 

35 To be clear in this Point, the Observation must be made 
when you are out of the way, and he not so much as under 
the Restraint of a Suspicion that any body has an Eye upon 
him. In those Seasons of perfect Freedom, let some body 
you can trust mark how he spends his Time, whether he 

40 unactively loiters it away, when without any Check he is left 
to his own Inclination. Thus, by his Employing of such 

i25 12 7] Implant desire or give Hand-work. 109 

Times of Liberty, you will easily discern, whether it be 
Listkssness in his Temper, or Aversion to his Book, that 
makes him saunter away his Time of Study. 

126. If some Defect in his Constitution has cast a 
Damp on his Mind, and he be naturally listless and dream- 5 
ing, this unpromising Disposition is none of the easiest 
to be dealt with, because, generally carrying with it an 
Unconcernedness for the future, it wants the two great 
Springs of Action, Foresight and Desire; which how to 
plant and increase, where Nature has given a cold and 10 
contrary Temper, will be the Question. As soon as you 
are satisfied that this is the Case, you must carefully enquire 
whether there be nothing he delights in : Inform your self 
what it is he is most pleased with ; and if you can find 
any particular Tendency his Mind hath, increase it all you 15 
can, and make use of that to set him on Work, and to excite 
his Industry. If he loves Praise, or Play, or fine Clothes, 
&c. or, on the other Side, dreads Pain, Disgrace, or your 
Displeasure, &c. whatever it be that he loves most, except 
it be Sloth (for that will never set him on Work) let that 20 
be made use of to quicken him, and make him bestir him 
self. For in this listless Temper, you are not to fear an 
Excess of Appetite (as in all other Cases) by cherishing it. 
Tis that which you want, and therefore must labour to 
raise and increase; for where there is no Desire, there will 25 
be no Industry. 

127. If you have not Hold enough upon him this 
Way, to stir up Vigour and Activity in him, you must em 
ploy him in some constant bodily Labour, whereby he 
may get an Habit of doing something. The keeping him 30 
hard to some Study were the better Way to get him an 
Habit of exercising and applying his Mind. But because 
this is an invisible Attention, and no body can tell when 
he is or is not idle at it, you must find bodily Employments 
for him, which he must be constantly busied in, and kept 35 
to; and if they have some little Hardship and Shame in 
them, it may not be the worse, that they may the sooner 
weary him, and make him desire to return to his Book. 
But be sure, when you exchange his Book for his other 
Labour, set him such a Task, to be done in such a Time 40 
as may allow him no Opportunity to be idle. Only after 

no Set Tasks of Play. [ 127129 

you have by this Way brought him to be attentive and in 
dustrious at his Book, you may, upon his dispatching his 
Study within the Time set him, give him as a Reward 
some Respite from his other Labour; which you may 
5 diminish as you find him grow more and more steady in 
his Application, and at last wholly take off when his 
sauntring at his Book is cured. 

128. We formerly observed, that Variety and Free 
dom was That that delighted Children, and 

Compulsion. j j ^i -ni i i i 

10 recommended their Plays to them ; and that 

therefore their Book, or any Thing we would have them 
learn, should not be enjoined them as Business. This their 
Parents, Tutors, and Teachers are apt to forget; and their 
Impatience to have them busied in what is fit for them 

15 to do, suffers them not to deceive them into it : But by 
the repeated Injunctions they meet with, Children quickly 
distinguish between what is required of them, and what not. 
When this Mistake has once made his Book uneasy to him, 
the Cure is to be applied at the other End. And since 

20 it will be then too late to endeavour to make it a Play 
to him, you must take the contrary Course : Observe what 
Play he is most delighted with ; enjoin that, and make 
him play so many Hours every Day, not as a Punishment 
for playing, but as if it were the Business required of him. 

25 This, if I mistake not, will in a few Days make him so 
weary of his most beloved Sport, that he will prefer his 
Book, or any Thing to it, especially if it may redeem him 
from any Part of the Task of Play is set him, and he may 
be suffered to employ some Part of the Time destined 

30 to his Task of Play in his Book, or such other Exercise 
as is really useful to him. This I at least think a better 
Cure than that Forbidding, (which usually increases the 
Desire) or any other Punishment should be made use of 
to remedy it : For when you have once glutted his Ap- 

35 petite (which may safely be done in all Things but eating 
and drinking) and made him surfeit of what you would 
have him avoid, you have put into him a Principle of 
Aversion, and you need not so much fear afterwards his 
longing for the same Thing again. 

40 129. This I think is sufficiently evident, that Children 
generally hate to be idle. All the Care then is, that their 

129] Play or "Work? in 

busy Humour should be constantly employ d in something 
of Use to them ; which, if you will attain, you must make 
what you would have them do a Recreation to them, and 
not a Biisiness. The Way to do this, so that they may 
not perceive you have any Hand in it, is this proposed 5 
here ; viz. To make them weary of that which you would 
not have them do, by enjoining and making them under 
some Pretence or other do it, till they are surfeited. For 
Example : Does your Son play at Top and Scourge too 
much? Enjoin him to play so many Hours every Day, 10 
and look that he do it ; and you shall see he will quickly 
be sick of it, and willing to leave it. By this Means making 
the Recreations you dislike a Business to him, he will of him 
self with Delight betake himself to those Things you would 
have him do, especially if they be proposed as Rewards 15 
for having performed his Task in that Play which is com 
manded him. For if he be ordered every Day to whip his 
Top so long as to make him sufficiently weary, do you not 
think he will apply himself with Eagerness to his Book, 
j and wish for it, if you promise it him as a Reward of 20 
having whipped his Top lustily, quite out all the Time 
that is set him ? Children, in the Things they do, if they 
comport with their Age, find little Difference so they may 
be doing : The Esteem they have for one Thing above 
another they borrow from others; so that what those about 25 
them make to be a Reward to them, will really be so. 
By this Art it is in their Governor s Choice, whether Scotch- 
hoppers shall reward their Dancing, or Dancing their Scotch- 
hoppers ; whether Peg-Top, or Reading ; playing at Trap, 
or studying the Globes, shall be more acceptable and 30 
pleasing to them ; all that they desire being to be busy, 
and busy, as they imagine, in Things of their own Choice, 
and which they receive as Favours from their Parents or 
others for whom they have Respect and with whom they 
would be in Credit. A Set of Children thus ordered and 35 
kept from the ill Example of others, would all of them, 
I suppose, with as much Earnestness and Delight, learn 
to read, write, and what else one would have them, as 
others do their ordinary Plays : And the eldest being 
thus entered, and this made the Fashion of the Place, 40 
it would be as impossible to hinder them from learn- 

ii2 Playthings. [ 129, 130 

ing the one, as it is ordinarily to keep them from the 

130. Play-things, I think, Children should have, and 
of divers sorts ; but still to be in the Custody 
5 a - " es " of their Tutors or some body else, whereof 
the Child should have in his Power but one at once, and 
should not be suffered to have another but when he re 
stored that. This teaches them betimes to be careful of 
not losing or spoiling the Things they have ; whereas Plenty 

10 and Variety in their own keeping, makes them wanton and 
careless, and teaches them from the Beginning to be Squan 
derers and Wasters. These, I confess, are little Things, 
and such as will seem beneath the Care of a Governor ; but 
nothing that may form Children s Minds is to be overlooked 

15 and neglected, and whatsoever introduces Habits, and settles 
Customs in them, deserves the Care and Attention of their 
Governors, and is not a small Thing in its Consequences. 

One Thing more about Children s Play-things may be 
worth their Parents Care. Though it be agreed they should 

20 have of several Sorts, yet, I think, they should have none 
bought for them. This will hinder that great Variety they 
are often overcharged with, which serves only to teach 
the Mind to wander after Change and Superfluity, to be 
unquiet, and perpetually stretching itself after something 

25 more still, though it knows not what, and never to be 
satisfied with what it hath. The Court that is made to 
People of Condition in such kind of Presents to their 
Children, does the little ones great harm. By it they are 
taught Pride, Vanity and Covetousness, almost before they 

30 can speak : And I have known a young Child so distracted 
with the Number and Variety of his Play-games, that he 
tired his Maid every Day to look them over ; and was so 
accustomed to Abundance, that he never thought he had 
enough, but was always asking, What more ? What more ? 

35 What new Thing shall I have? A good Introduction to 
moderate Desires, and the ready Way to make a contented 
happy Man ! 

" How then shall they have the Play-games you allow 
them, if none must be bought for them?" I answer, They 

40 should make them themselves, or at least endeavour it, and 
set themselves about it; till then they should have none, and 

130, 131] Educational Use of Games. 113 

till then they will want none of any great Artifice. A smooth 
Pebble, a Piece of Paper, the Mother s Bunch of Keys, or 
any Thing they cannot hurt themselves with, serves as much 
to divert little Children as those more chargeable and 
curious Toys from the Shops, which are presently put out of 5 
order and broken. Children are never dull, or out of Humour, 
for want of such Play-things, unless they have been used to 
them; when they are little, whatever occurs serves the Turn; 
and as they grow bigger, if they are not stored by the 
expensive Folly of others, they will make them themselves. 10 
Indeed, when they once begin to set themselves to work 
about any of their Inventions, they should be taught and 
assisted ; but should have nothing whilst they lazily sit still, 
expecting to be furnish d from other hands, without employ 
ing their own. And if you help them where they are at a 15 
Stand, it will more endear you to them than any chargeable 
Toys you shall buy for them. Play-things which are above 
their Skill to make, as Tops, Gigs, Battledores, and the like, 
which are to be used with Labour, should indeed be procured 
them. These tis convenient they should have, not for 20 
Variety but Exercise; but these too should be given them as 
bare as might be. If they had a Top, the Scourge-stick 
and Leather-strap should be left to their own making and 
fitting. If they sit gaping to have such Things drop into 
their Mouths, they should go without them. This will 25 
accustom them to seek for what they want, in themselves 
and in their own Endeavours; whereby they will be taught 
Moderation in their Desires, Application, Industry, Thought, 
Contrivance, and good Husbandry; Qualities that will be 
useful to them when they are Men, and therefore cannot be 30 
learned too soon, nor fixed too deep. All the Plays and 
Diversions of Children should be directed towards good and 
useful Habits, or else they will introduce ill ones. Whatever 
they do, leaves some Impression on that tender Age, and 
from thence they receive a Tendency to Good or Evil: And 35 
whatever hath such an Influence, ought not to be neg 

131. Lying is so ready and cheap a Cover for any 
Miscarriage, and so much in Fashion among all . 

Sorts of People, that a Child can hardly avoid 40 

observing the use is made of it on all Occasions, and so can 

Q. 8 

Ti4 Lying and Excuses. [ 131, 132 

scarce be kept without great Care from getting into it. But 
it is so ill a Quality, and the Mother of so many ill ones 
that spawn from it, and take shelter under it, that a Child 
should be brought up in the greatest Abhorrence of it 
5 imaginable. It should be always (when occasionally it 
comes to be mention d) spoke of before him with the utmost 
Detestation, as a Quality so wholly inconsistent with the 
Name and Character of a Gentleman, that no body of any 
Credit can bear the Imputation of a Lie; a Mark that is 

TO judg d the utmost Disgrace, which debases a Man to the 
lowest Degree of a shameful Meanness, and ranks him with 
the most contemptible Part of Mankind and the abhorred 
Rascality; and is not to be endured in any one who would 
converse with People of Condition, or have any Esteem or 

15 Reputation in the World. The first Time he is found in 
a Lie, it should rather be wondered at as a monstrous 
Thing in him, than reproved as an ordinary Fault. If 
that keeps him not from relapsing, the next Time he must 
be sharply rebuked, and fall into the State of great Dis- 

20 pleasure of his Father and Mother and all about him 
who take Notice of it. And if this Way work not the 
Cure, you must come to Blows ; for after he has been 
thus warned, a premeditated Lie must always be looked 
upon as Obstinacy, and never be permitted to escape un- 

25 punished. 

132. Children, afraid to have their Faults seen in 

their naked Colours, will, like the rest of the 

Sons of Adam, be apt to make Excuses. This 

is a Fault usually bordering upon, and leading to Untruth, 

30 and is not to be indulged in them ; but yet it ought to be 
cured rather with Shame than Roughness. If therefore, 
when a Child is questioned for any Thing, his first Answer 
be an Excuse, warn him soberly to tell the Truth; and 
then if he persists to shuffle it off with a Falsehood, he must 

35 be chastised ; but if he directly confess, you must commend 
his Ingenuity, and pardon the Fault, be it what it will ; and 
pardon it so, that you never so much as reproach him with 
it, or mention it to him again : For if you would have him 
in love with Ingenuity, and by a constant Practice make it 

40 habitual to him, you must take care that it never procure 
him the least Inconvenience; but on the contrary, his own 

5 1.^1 S 

132 135] Seem to trust. The four Requisites. 115 

Confession bringing always with it perfect Impunity, should 
be besides encouraged by some Marks of Approbation. If 
his Excuse be such at any time that you cannot prove it to 
have any Falshood in it, let it pass for true, and be sure not 
to shew any Suspicion of it. Let him keep up his Reputa- 5 
tion with you as high as is possible; for when once he finds he 
has lost that, you have lost a great, and your best Hold upon 
him. Therefore let him not think he has the Character of a 
Liar with you, as long as you can avoid it without flattering 
him in it. Thus some Slips in Truth may be over-looked. 10 
But after he has once been corrected for a Lie, you must be 
sure never after to pardon it in him, whenever you find and 
take notice to him that he is guilty of it: For it being a 
Fault which he has been forbid, and may, unless he be 
wilful, avoid, the repeating of it is perfect Perverseness, 15 
and must have the Chastisement due to that Offence. 

133. This is what I have thought concerning the 
general Method of educating a young Gentleman; which, 
though I am apt to suppose may have some Influence on 
the whole Course of his Education, yet I am far from 20 
imagining it contains all those Particulars which his growing 
Years or peculiar Temper may require. But this being 
premised in general, we shall in the next Place, descend to a 
more particular Consideration of the several Parts of his 
Education. 25 

134. That which every Gentleman (that takes any 
care of his Education) desires for his Son, besides the 
Estate he leaves him, is contain d (I suppose) in these four 
Things, Virtue, Wisdom, Breeding, and Learning. I will 
not trouble my self whether these Names do not some of 30 
them sometimes stand for the same Thing, or really include 
one another. It serves my Turn here to follow the popular 
Use of these Words, which, I presume, is clear enough to 
make me be understood, and I hope there will be no Diffi 
culty to comprehend my Meaning. 35 

135. I place Virtue as the first and most necessary of 
those Endowments that belong to a Man or a Gentleman; 
as absolutely requisite to make him valued and beloved by 
Others, acceptable or tolerable to himself. Without that, 
I think, he will be happy neither in this nor the other 4 


n6 Virtue. First Teaching about God. [ 136, 137 

136. As the Foundation of this, there 
ought very early to be imprinted on his Mind a 
true Notion of God, as of the independent Supreme Being, 
Author and Maker of all Things, from whom we receive all 
5 our Good, who loves us, and gives us all things. And con 
sequent to this, instil into him a Love and Reverence of this 
Supreme Being. This is enough to begin with, without going 
to explain this Matter any farther; for fear lest by talking 
too early to him of Spirits, and being unseasonably forward 

10 to make him understand the incomprehensible Nature of 
that infinite Being, his Head be either fill d with false, or 
perplex d with unintelligible Notions of Him. Let him only 
be told upon Occasion, that God made and governs all 
things, hears and sees every thing, and does all manner of 

15 Good to those that love and obey Him ; you will find, that 
being told of such a God, other Thoughts will be apt to rise 
up fast enough in his Mind about Him; which, as you ob 
serve them to have any Mistakes, you must set right. And 
I think it would be better if Men generally rested in such an 

20 Idea of God, without being too curious in their Notions 
about a Being which all must acknowledge incomprehen 
sible; whereby many, who have not Strength and Clearness 
of Thought to distinguish between what they can, and what 
they cannot know, run themselves in Superstition or Atheism, 

25 making God like themselves, or (because they cannot com 
prehend any thing else) none at all. And I am apt to think, 
the keeping Children constantly Morning and Evening to 
Acts of Devotion to God, as to their Maker, Preserver and 
Benefactor, in some plain and short Form of Prayer, suitable 

30 to their Age and Capacity, will be of much more Use to 
them in Religion, Knowledge, and Virtue, than to distract 
their Thoughts with curious Enquiries into His inscrutable 
Essence and Being. 

137. Having by gentle Degrees, as you find him 

is capable of it, settled such an Idea of God in 

OJ Spirits. i -j i i i TT- 

his Mind, and taught him to pray to Him, and 
praise Him as the Author of his Being, and of all the Good 
he does or can enjoy; forbear any Discourse of other 
Spirits, till the mention of them coming in his way, upon 
40 occasion hereafter to be set down, and his reading the 
Scripture-History, put him upon that Enquiry. 

138] Bogey makes Cowards. An Anecdote. 117 

138. But even then, and always whilst he is young, 
be sure to preserve his tender Mind from all Go6Ktts 
Impressions and Notions of Spirits and Goblins, 
or any fearful Apprehensions in the Dark. This he will be 
in danger of from the Indiscretion of Servants, whose usual 5 
Method is to awe Children, and keep them in subjection, 
by telling them of Raw-head and Bloody-bones, and such 
other Names as carry with them the Ideas of something 
terrible and hurtful, which they have Reason to be afraid 
of when alone, especially in the Dark. This must be care- 10 
fully prevented : For though by this foolish way, they may 
keep them from little Faults, yet the Remedy is much worse 
than the Disease ; and there are stamped upon their Imagi 
nations Ideas that follow them with Terror and Affright- 
ment. Such Bug-bear Thoughts once got into the tender 15 
Minds of Children, and being set on with a strong Impres 
sion from the Dread that accompanies such Apprehensions, 
sink deep, and fasten themselves so as not easily, if ever, to 
be got out again ; and whilst they are there, frequently 
haunt them with strange Visions, making Children Dastards 20 
when alone, and afraid of their Shadows and Darkness all 
their Lives after. I have had those complain to me, when 
Men, who had been thus used when young ; that though 
their Reason corrected the wrong Ideas they had taken in, 
and they were satisfied that there was no Cause to fear 25 
invisible Beings more in the Dark than in the Light, yet 
that these Notions were apt still upon any Occasion to start 
up first in their prepossessed Fancies, and not to be removed 
without some Pains. And to let you see how lasting and 
frightful Images are, that take place in the Mind early, I 30 
shall here tell you a pretty remarkable but true Story. 
There was in a Town in the West a Man of a disturbed 
Brain, whom the Boys used to teaze when he came in 
their way : This Fellow one Day seeing in the Street one of 
those Lads, that used to vex him, stepped into a Cutler s 35 
Shop he was near, and there seizing on a naked Sword, 
made after the Boy ; who seeing him coming so armed, 
betook himself to his Feet, and ran for his Life, and by 
good Luck had Strength and Heels enough to reach his 
Father s House before the Mad-man could get up to him. 40 
The Door was only latch d : and when he had the Latch in 

u8 Trust in God. Truth. Good-nature. [ 138, 139 

his Hand, he turn d about his Head, to see how near his 
Pursuer was, who was at the Entrance of the Porch, with 
his Sword up ready to strike; and he had just Time to get 
in, and clap to the Door to avoid the Blow, which, though 
5 his Body escaped, his Mind did not. This frightening Idea 
made so deep an Impression there, that it lasted many 
Years, if not all his Life after. For, telling this Story when 
he was a Man, he said, That after that time till then, he 
never went in at that Door (that he could remember) at any 

10 time without looking back, whatever Business he had in 
his Head, or how little soever before he came thither he 
thought of this Mad-man. 

If Children were let alone, they would be no more 
afraid in the Dark, than in broad Sun-shine : They would 

T 5 in their turns as much welcome the one for Sleep as the 
other to play in. There should be no Distinction made to 
them by any Discourse of more Danger or terrible Things 
in the one than the other: But if the Folly of any one 
about them should do them this Harm, and make them 

20 think there is any Difference between being in the dark and 
winking, you must get it out of their Minds as soon as you 
can ; and let them know, that God, who made all things 
good for them, made the Night that they might sleep the 
better and the quieter; and that they being under his 

2 5 Protection, there is nothing in the dark to hurt them. 
What is to be known more of God and good Spirits, is to 
be deferr d till the time we shall hereafter mention ; and of 
evil Spirits, twill be well if you can keep him from wrong 
Fancies about them till he is ripe for that sort of Know- 

30 ledge. 

139. Having laid the Foundations of Virtue in a true 

Truth Notion of a God, such as the Creed wisely 

teaches, as far as his Age is capable, and by 

accustoming him to pray to Him ; the next thing to be 

35 taken care of, is to keep him exactly to speaking of Truth, 
and by all the ways imaginable inclining him to 

Goad- Nature. J > . 

be gooa-natiir a. Let him know that twenty 

Faults are sooner to be forgiven than the straining of 

Trutk to cover any one by an Excuse. And to teach him 

40 betimes to love and be good-natur d to others, is to lay 

early the true Foundation of an honest Man ; all Injustice 

i39, 1 4] Correct Bias. Wisdom v. Cunning. 119 

generally springing from too great Love of our selves and 
too little of others. 

This is all I shall say of this Matter in general, and is 
enough for laying the first Foundations of Virtue in a 
Child : As he grows up, the Tendency of his natural Incli- 5 
nation must be observed; which, as it inclines him more 
than is convenient on one or t other side from the right 
Path of Virtue, ought to have proper Remedies applied* 
For few of Adam s Children are so happy, as not to be 
born with some Byass in their natural Temper, which it is 10 
the Business of Education either to take off, or counter 
balance. But to enter into Particulars of this, would be 
beyond the Design of this short Treatise of Education. I 
intend not a Discourse of all the Virtues and Vices, how 
each Virtue is to be attained, and every particular Vice by 15 
its peculiar Remedies cured : Though I have mentioned 
some of the most ordinary Faults, and the Ways to be used 
in correcting them. 

140. Wisdom I take in the popular Acceptation, for 
a Man s managing his Business ably and with 20 

foresight in this World. This is the Product of 
a good natural Temper, Application of Mind, and Experi 
ence together, and so above the reach of Children. The 
greatest thing that in them can be done towards it, is to 
hinder them, as much as may be, from being cunning ; 25 
which, being the Ape of Wisdom, is the most distant from 
it that can be : And as an Ape for the Likeness it has to a 
Man, wanting what really should make him so, is by so 
much the uglier ; Cunning is only the want of Understand 
ing, which because it cannot compass its Ends by direct 30 
Ways, would do it by a Trick and Circumvention ; and the 
Mischief of it is, a cunning Trick helps but once, but 
hinders ever after. No Cover was ever made either so big 
or so fine as to hide it self: No body was ever so cunning as 
to conceal their being so : And when they are once dis- 35 
covered, every Body is shy, every Body distrustful of crafty 
Men ; and all the World forwardly join to oppose and 
defeat them ; whilst the open, fair, wise Man has every 
body to make way for him, and goes directly to his Busi 
ness. To accustom a Child to have true Notions of things, 40 
and not to be satisfied till he has them ; to raise his Mind 

120 Good Breeding. [ 140 14 

to great and worthy Thoughts, and to keep him at a Dis 
tance from Falshood and Cunning, which has always a 
broad Mixture of Falshood in it ; is the fittest Preparation 
of a Child for Wisdom. The rest, which is to be learn d 
5 from Time, Experience, and Observation, and an Acquaint 
ance with Men, their Tempers and Designs, is not to be 
expected in the Ignorance and Inadvertency of Childhood, 
or the inconsiderate Heat and Unwariness of Youth : All 
that can be done towards it, during this unripe Age, is, as I 

10 have said, to accustom them to Truth and Sincerity; to a 
submission to Reason ; and as much as may be, to Reflec 
tion on their own Actions. 

141. The next good Quality belonging to a Gentle 
man, is good Breeding. There are two sorts 

i 5 Breeding. ^ ^ ree ding: The one a sheepish Bashfulness, 
and the other a mis-becoming Negligence and Disrespect in our 
Carriage; both which are avoided by duly observing this 
one Rule, Not to think meanly of ourselves, and not to think 
meanly of others. 

20 142. The first part of this Rule must not be under 
stood in Opposition to Humility, but to Assurance. We 
ought not to think so well of our selves, as to stand upon 
our own Value; and assume to our selves a Preference before 
others, because of any Advantage we may imagine we have 

25 over them; but modestly to take what is offered, when it is 
our due. But yet we ought to think so well of our selves, as 
to perform those Actions which are incumbent on, and 
expected of us, without Discomposure or Disorder, in whose 
Presence soever we are; keeping that Respect and Distance 

30 which is due to every one s Rank and Quality. There is 
often in People, especially Children, a clownish Shame- 
facedness before Strangers or those above them: They 
are confounded in their Thoughts, Words, and Looks; 
and so lose themselves in that Confusion as not to be 

35 able to do any thing, or at least not to do it with that 
Freedom and Gracefulness which pleases, and makes them 
be acceptable. The only cure for this, as for any other 
Miscarriage, is by use to introduce the contrary Habit. 
But since we cannot accustom ourselves to converse with 

40 Strangers and Persons of Quality without being in their 
Company, nothing can cure this Part of Ill-breeding but 

142, 143] Good and Ill-breeding analysed. 121 

Change and Variety of Company, and that of Persons 
above us. 

143. As the before-mentioned consists in too great a 
Concern how to behave ourselves towards others ; so the 
other Part of Ill-breeding lies in the Appearance of too 5 
little care of pleasing or shewing Respect to those we have to 
do with. To avoid this these two things are requisite : 
First, a Disposition of the Mind not to offend others ; and 
Secondly, the most acceptable and agreeable way of ex 
pressing that Disposition. From the one Men are called 10 
civil ; from the other well-fashioned. The latter of these is 
that Decency and Gracefulness of Looks, Voice, Words, 
Motions, Gestures, and of all the whole outward Demeanour, 
which takes in Company, and makes those with whom we 
may converse, easy and well pleased. This is, as it were, 15 
the Language whereby that internal Civility of the Mind is 
expressed; which, as other Languages are, being very much 
governed by the Fashion and Custom of every Country, 
must, in the Rules and Practice of it, be learn d chiefly 
from Observation, and the Carriage of those who are allow d 20 
to be exactly well-bred. The other Part, which lies deeper 
than the Outside, is that general Good-will and Regard for 
all People, which makes any one have a care not to shew in 
his Carriage any Contempt, Disrespect, or Neglect of them; 
but to express, according to the Fashion and Way of that 25 
Country, a Respect and Value for them according to their 
Rank and Condition. It is a Disposition of the Mind that 
shews it self in the Carriage, whereby a Man avoids making 
any one uneasy in Conversation. 

I shall take notice of four Qualities, that are most 30 
directly opposite to this first and most taking of all the social 
Vertues. And from some one of these four it is, that Incivility 
commonly has its Rise. I shall set them down, that Chil 
dren may be preserv d or recover d from their ill Influence. 

i. The first is, a natural Roughness, which makes a 35 
Man uncomplaisant to others, so that he has 
no Deference for their Inclinations, Tempers, or 
Conditions. Tis the sure Badge of a Clown, not to mind 
what pleases or displeases those he is with ; and yet one may 
of en find a Man in fashionable Clothes give an unbounded 40 
swing to his own Humour, and suffer it to justle or over-run any 

122 Ill-breeding analysed. Rallying. [ 143 

one that stands in its way, with a perfect Indifferency how 
they take it. This is a Brutality that every one sees and 
abhors, and no body can be easy with: And therefore this 
finds no place in any one who would be thought to have the 
5 least Tincture of Good-breeding. For the very End and 
Business of Good-breeding is to supple the natural Stiffness, 
and so soften Men s Tempers, that they may bend to a Com 
pliance, and accommodate themselves to those they have to 
do with. 

10 2. Contempt, or want of due Respect, discovered either 
in Looks, Words, or Gesture : This, from whom 
soever it comes, brings always Uneasiness with 
it. For no body can contentedly bear being slighted. 

3. Censoriousness, and finding fault with others, has a 

15 direct Opposition to Civility. Men, whatever 

Censorious- j.j ie y are or are no j. guilty of, would not have 

their Faults display d and set in open View 
and broad Day-light, before their own or other People s 
Eyes. Blemishes affixed to any one always carry Shame 

20 with them : And the Discovery, or even bare Imputation 

of any Defect is not born without some Uneasiness. 

Raillery is the most refined way of exposing the 

Faults of others: But, because it is usually 

done with Wit and good Language, and gives Entertainment 

25 to the Company, People are led into a Mistake, that where 
it keeps within fair Bounds there is no Incivility in it. And 
so the Pleasantry of this sort of Conversation often intro 
duces it amongst People of the better Rank; and such 
Talkers are favourably heard and generally applauded by 

30 the Laughter of the By-standers on their side. But they 
ought to consider, that the Entertainment of the rest of the 
Company is at the cost of that one who is set out in their 
burlesque Colours, who therefore is not without Uneasiness, 
unless the Subject for which he is rallied be really in itself 

35 Matter of Commendation. For then the pleasant Images 
and Representations which make the Raillery carrying 
Praise as well as Sport with them, the rallied Person also 
finds his Account, and takes Part in the Diversion. But 
because the right Management of so nice and ticklish a 

40 Business, wherein a little Slip may spoil all, is not every 
body s Talent, I think those who would secure themselves 

143] Contradiction. Captiousness. 123 

from provoking others, especially all young People, should 
carefully abstain from Raillery, which by a small Mistake 
or any wrong Turn, may leave upon the Mind of those who 
are made uneasy by it, the lasting Memory of having been 
piquantly, tho wittily, taunted for some thing censurable in 5 

Besides Raillery, Contradiction is a sort of Censorious- 
ness wherein Ill-breeding often shews it self. 

/-> i j .1 111 Contradiction. 

Complaisance does not require that we should 
always admit all the Reasonings or Relations that the 10 
Company is entertain d with, no, nor silently to let pass all 
that is vented in our Hearing. The opposing the Opinions, 
and rectifying the Mistakes of others, is what Truth and 
Charity sometimes require of us, and Civility does not 
oppose, if it be done with due Caution and Care of Circum- 1 5 
stances. But there are some People, that one may observe, 
possessed as it were with the Spirit of Contradiction, that 
steadily, and without regard to Right or Wrong, oppose 
some one, or, perhaps, every one of the Company, whatever 
they say. This is so visible and outrageous a way of 20 
Censuring, that no body can avoid thinking himself injur d 
by it. All Opposition to what another Man has said, is so 
apt to be suspected of Censoriousness, and is so seldom 
received without some sort of Humiliation, that it ought to 
be made in the gentlest manner, and softest Words can be 25 
found, and such as with the whole Deportment may express 
no Forwardness to contradict. All Marks of Respect and 
good Will ought to accompany it, that whilst we gain the 
Argument, we may not lose the Esteem of those that 
hear us. 30 

4. Captiousness is another Fault opposite to Civility ; 
not only because it often produces misbecoming Ca ^ ousnes , 
and provoking Expressions and Carriage; but 
because it is a tacit Accusation and Reproach of some 
Incivility taken notice of in those whom we are angry with. 35 
Such a Suspicion or Intimation cannot be borne by any 
one without Uneasiness. Besides, one angry body dis 
composes the whole Company, and the Harmony ceases 
upon any such Jarring. 

The Happiness that all Men so steadily pursue consist- 40 
ing in Pleasure, it is easy to see why the Civil are more 

1^4 Over-civil. [ 143 145 

acceptable than the Useful. The Ability, Sincerity, and 
good Intention of a Man of Weight and Worth, or a real 
Friend, seldom atones for the Uneasiness that is produced 
by his grave and solid Representations. Power and Riches, 
5 nay Virtue itself, are valued only as conducing to our Happi 
ness. And therefore he recommends himself ill to another as 
.liming at his Happiness, who, in the Services he does him, 
makes him uneasy in the Manner of doing them. He that 
knows how to make those he converses with easy, without 

10 debasing himself to low and servile Flattery, has found the 
true Art of living in the World, and being both welcome and 
valued every where. Civility therefore is what in the first 
place should with great care be made habitual to Children 
and young People. 

15 144. There is another Fault in good Manners, and 

that is Excess of Ceremony, and an obstinate 

persisting to force upon another what is not 

his Due, and what he cannot take without Folly or Shame. 

This seems rather a Design to expose than oblige : Or at 

20 least looks like a Contest for Mastery, and at best is but 
troublesome, and so can be no Part of Good-breeding, which 
has no other Use or End but to make People easy and 
satisfied in their Conversation with us. This is a Fault 
few young People are apt to fall into ; but yet if they are 

25 ever guilty of it, or are suspected to incline that way, they 
should be told of it, and warned of this mistaken Civility. 
The thing they should endeavour and aim at in Conver 
sation, should be to shew Respect, Esteem, and Good-will, 
by paying to every one that common Ceremony and Regard 

30 which is in Civility due to them. To do this without a 
Suspicion of Flattery, Dissimulation, or Meanness, is a 
great Skill, which good Sense, Reason, and good Company, 
can only teach ; but is of so much Use in civil Life, that 
it is well worth the studying. 

35 145. Though the managing ourselves well in this 
Part of our Behaviour has the Name of Good-breeding, as 
if peculiarly the Effect of Education ; yet, as I have said, 
young Children should not be much perplexed about it ; 
I mean, about putting off their Hats, and making Legs 

40 modishly. Teach them Humility, and to be good-natur d, 
if you can, and this sort of Manners will not be wanting ; 

145] Children s Politeness simple. 125 

Civility being in truth nothing but a Care not to shew any 
Slighting or Contempt of any one in Conversation. What 
are the most allow d and esteem d Ways of expressing this, 
we have above observ d. It is as peculiar and different, 
in several Countries of the World, as their Languages ; and 5 
therefore, if it be rightly considered, Rules and Discourses 
made to Children about it, are as useless and impertinent, 
as it would be now and then to give a Rule or two of 
the Spanish Tongue to one that converses only with Eng 
lishmen. Be as busy as you please with Discourses of 10 
Civility to your Son, such as is his Company, such will be 
his Manners. A Plough-man of your Neighbourhood, that 
has never been out of his Parish, read what Lectures you 
please to him, will be as soon in his Language as his 
Carriage a Courtier ; that is, in neither will be more polite 1 5 
than those he uses to converse with : And therefore, of 
this no other Care can be taken till he be of an Age to 
have a Tutor put to him, who must not fail to be a well- 
bred Man. And, in good earnest, if I were to speak my 
Mind freely, so Children do nothing out of Obstinacy, 20 
Pride, and Ill-nature, tis no great matter how they put 
off their Hats or make Legs. If you can teach them 
to love and respect other People, they will, as their Age 
requires it, find Ways to express it acceptably to every 
one, according to the Fashions they have been used to : 25 
And as to their Motions and Carriage of their Bodies, 
a Dancing-Master, as has been said, when it is fit, will 
teach them what is most becoming. In the mean time, 
when they are young, People expect not that Children 
should be over-mindful of these Ceremonies ; Carelessness 30 
is allow d to that Age, and becomes them as well as Com 
pliments do grown People : Or, at least, if some very nice 
People will think it a Fault, I am sure it is a Fault that 
should be over-look d, and left to Time, a Tutor, and 
Conversation to cure. And therefore I think it not worth 35 
your while to have your Son (as I often see Children are) 
molested or chid about it : But where there is Pride or 
Ill-nature appearing in his Carrriage, there he must be 
persuaded or shamed out of it. 

Though Children, when little, should not be much 40 
perplexed with Rules and ceremonious parts of Breeding, 

i :?6 Rudeness of Interrupting. [ 145 

yet there is a sort of Unmannerliness very apt to grow 

up with young People, if not early restrained, and that 

is, a Forwardness to interrupt others that are 

Interruption. . . * . . 

speaking ; and to stop them with some Contra- 
5 diction. Whether the Custom of Disputing, and the Repu 
tation of Parts and Learning usually given to it as if it 
were the only Standard and Evidence of Knowledge, make 
young Men so forward to watch Occasions to correct others 
in their Discourse, and not to slip any Opportunity of 

10 shewing their Talents : So it is, that I have found Scholars 
most blamed in this Point. There cannot be a greater 
Rudeness, than to interrupt another in the Current of his 
Discourse ; for if there be not impertinent Folly in answer 
ing a Man before we know what he will say, yet it is a 

15 plain Declaration, that we are weary to hear him talk 
any longer, and have a Dis-esteem of what he says ; which 
we judging not fit to entertain the Company, desire them 
to give Audience to us, who have something to produce 
worth their Attention. This shews a very great Disrespect, 

20 and cannot but be offensive : And yet this is what almost 
all Interruption constantly carries with it. To which, if 
there be added, as is usual, a Correcting of any Mistake, 
or a Contradiction of what has been said, it is a Mark of 
yet greater Pride and Self-conceitedness, when we thus 

25 intrude our selves for Teachers, and take upon us either 
to set another right in his Story, or shew the Mistakes 
of his Judgment. 

I do not say this, that I think there should be no 
Difference of Opinions in Conversation, nor Opposition 

30 in Men s Discourses : This would be to take away the 
greatest Advantage of Society, and the Improvements are 
to be made by ingenious Company ; where the Light is 
to be got from the opposite Arguings of Men of Parts, 
shewing the different Sides of Things and their various 

35 Aspects and Probabilities, would be quite lost, if every one 
were obliged to assent to, and say after the first Speaker. 
Tis not the owning one s Dissent from another, that I 
speak against, but the Manner of doing it. Young Men 
should be taught not to be forward to interpose their 

40 Opinions, unless asked, or when others have done, and 
are silent; and then only by way of Enquiry, not Instruc- 

145] Modest carriage. Rudeness in high life. 127 

tion. The positive asserting, and the magisterial Air should 
be avoided ; and when a general Pause of the whole Com 
pany affords an Opportunity-, they may modestly put in 
their Question as Learners. 

This becoming Decency will not cloud their Parts, nor 5 
weaken the Strength of their Reason ; but bespeak the 
more favourable Attention, and give what they say the 
greater Advantage. An ill Argument, or ordinary Obser 
vation, thus introduc d, with some civil Preface of Defe 
rence and Respect to the Opinions of others, will procure 10 
them more Credit and Esteem, than the sharpest Wit, or 
profoundest Science, with a rough, insolent, or noisy Man 
agement, which always shocks the Hearers, leaves an ill 
Opinion of the Man, though he get the better of it in the 
Argument. 1 5 

This therefore should be carefully watched in young 
People, stopp d in the Beginning, and the contrary Habit 
introduced in all their Conversation. And the rather, 
because Forwardness to talk, frequent Interruptions in 
arguing, and loud Wrangling, are too often observable 20 
amongst grown People, even of Rank, amongst us. The 
Indians, whom we call barbarous, observe much more 
Decency and Civility in their Discourses and Conversation, 
giving one another a fair silent Hearing till they have quite 
done ; and then answering them calmly, and without Noise 25 
or Passion. And if it be not so in this civilized Part of the 
World, we must impute it to a neglect in Education, which 
has not yet reform d this antient Piece of Barbarity amongst 
us. Was it not, think you, an entertaining Spectacle, to 
see two Ladies of Quality accidentally seated on the op- 30 
posite Sides of a Room, set round with Company, fall into 
a Dispute, and grow so eager in it, that in the 
Heat of the Controversy, edging by Degrees 
their Chairs forwards, they were in a little time got up close 
to one another in the middle of the Room ; where they 35 
for a good while managed the Dispute as fiercely as two 
Game-Cocks in the Pit, without minding or taking any 
notice of the Circle, which could not all the while forbear 
smiling? This I was told by a Person of O_uality, who 
was present at the Combat, and did not omit to reflect 4 
upon the Indecencies that Warmth in Dispute often runs 

128 Influence of Companions. Learning. [145 147 

People into ; which, since Custom makes too frequent, 
Education should take the more care of. There is no 
body but condemns this in others, though they overlook 
it in themselves ; and many who are sensible of it in them- 
5 selves, and resolve against it, cannot yet get rid of an ill 
Custom, which Neglect in their Education has suffer d to 
settle into an Habit. 

146. What has been above said concerning Company, 
would perhaps, if it were well reflected on. 

Company. . i T\ 

10 give us a larger Prospect, and let us see how 

much farther its Influence reaches. Tis not the Modes of 
Civility alone, that are imprinted by Conversation: The 
Tincture of Company sinks deeper that the Out-side; and 
possibly, if a true Estimate were made of the Morality and 

15 Religions of the World, we should find that the far greater 
part of Mankind received even those Opinions and Cere 
monies they would die for, rather from the Fashions of their 
Countries, and the constant Practice of those about them, 
than from any Conviction of their Reasons. I mention 

20 this only to let you see of what Moment I think Company is 
to your Son in all the Parts of his Life, and therefore how 
much that one Part is to be weighed and provided for ; it 
being of greater Force to work upon him, than all you can do 

25 147. You will wonder, perhaps, that I put Learning 

Leamin ^ ast) es P ec i a l v ^ I tell you I think it the least 

Part. This may seem strange in the Mouth of 

a bookish Man ; and this making usually the chief, if not 

only bustle and stir about Children, this being almost that 

30 alone which is thought on, when People talk of Education, 
makes it the greater Paradox. When I consider, what ado 
is made about a little Latin and Greek, how many Years are 
spent in it, and what a Noise and Business it makes to no 
Purpose, I can hardly forbear thinking that the Parents of 

35 Children still live in fear of the School-master s Rod, which 
they look on as the only Instrument of Education; as a 
Language or two to be its whole Business. How else is it 
possible that a Child should be chain d to the Oar seven, 
eight, or ten of the best Years of his Life, to get a Language 

40 or two, which, I think, might be had at a great deal cheaper 
rate of Pains and Time, and be learn d almost in playing ? 

147) 148] Learning needful but subordinate. 129 

Forgive me therefore if I say, I cannot with Patience 
think, that a young Gentleman should be put into the 
Herd, and be driven with a Whip and Scourge, as if he 
were to run the Gantlet through the several Classes, ad 
capiendum ingenii ctiltum. What then ? say you, would you 5 
not have him write and read? Shall he be more ignorant 
than the Clerk of our Parish, who takes Hopkins and 
Stern/told for the best Poets in the World, whom yet he 
makes worse than they are by his ill Reading? Not so, 
not so fast, I beseech you. Reading and Writing and 10 
Learning I allow to be necessary, but yet not the chief 
Business. I imagine you would think him a very foolish 
Fellow, that should not value a virtuous or a wise Man 
infinitely before a great Scholar. Not but that I think 
Learning a great Help to both in well-dispos d Minds; but 15 
yet it must be confess d also, that in others not so dispos d, 
it helps them only to be the more foolish, or worse Men. I 
say this, that when you consider of the Breeding of your 
Son, and are looking out for a School-Master or a Tutor, 
you would not have (as is usual) Latin and Logick only in 20 
your Thoughts. Learning must be had, but in the second 
Place, as subservient only to greater Qualities. Seek out 
somebody that may know how discreetly to frame his 
Manners : Place him in Hands where you may, as much as 
possible, secure his Innocence, cherish and nurse up the 25 
good, and gently correct and weed out any bad Inclinations, 
and settle in him good Habits. This is the main Point, and 
this being provided for, Learning may be had into the 
Bargain, and that, as I think, at a very easy rate, by Methods 
that may be thought on. 30 

148. When he can talk, tis time he should begin to 
learn to read. But as to this, give me leave 

, , i J Reading. 

here to inculcate again, what is very apt to 
be forgotten, viz. That great care is to be taken, that it be 
never made as a Business to him, nor he look on it as a 35 
Task. We naturally, as I said, even from our Cradles, love 
Liberty, and have therefore an Aversion to many things for 
no other Reason but because they are enjoin d us. I have 
always had a Fancy that Learning might be made a Play and 
Recreation to Children; and that they might be brought to 4 
desire to be taught, if it were proposed to them as a thing of 

130 No Compulsion: make Learning Sport. [148,9 

Honour, Credit, Delight, and Recreation, or as a Reward 
for doing something else; and if they were never chid or 
corrected for the neglect of it. That which confirms me in 
this Opinion, is, that amongst the Portuguese, tis so much a 
5 Fashion and Emulation amongst their Children, to learn 
to read and write, that they cannot hinder them from it: 
They will learn it one from another, and are as intent on it, 
as if it were forbidden them. I remember that being at a 
Friend s House, whose younger Son, a Child in Coats, was 

10 not easily brought \& his Book (being taught to read <& home 
by his Mother) I advised to try another Way, than re 
quiring it of him as his Duty ; we therefore, in a Discourse 
on purpose amongst our selves, in his Hearing, but without 
taking any notice of him, declared, That it was the Privilege 

15 and Advantage of Heirs and elder Brothers, to be Scholars; 
that this made them fine Gentlemen, and beloved by every 
Body: And that for younger Brothers, twas a Favour to 
admit them to Breeding ; to be taught to read and write, 
was more than came to their share; they might be ignorant 

20 Bumpkins and Clowns, if they pleased. This so wrought 
upon the Child, that afterwards he desired to be taught ; 
would come himself to his Mother to learn, and would not 
let his Maid be quiet till she heard him his Lesson. I doubt 
not but some Way like this might be taken with other Chil- 

25 dren; and when their Tempers are found, some Thoughts 

be instilPd into them, that might set them upon desiring of 

Learning themselves, and make them seek it as another 

sort of Play or Recreation. But then, as I said before, it 

\ must never be imposed as a Task, nor made a Trouble to 

solthem. There may be Dice and Play-things, with the Letters 

Ion them to teach Children the Alphabet by playing; and 

jtwenty other Ways may be found, suitable to their particular 

(Tempers, to make this kind of Learning a Sport to them. \ 

149. Thus Children may be cozen d into a Knowledge 

35 of the Letters; be taught to read, without perceiving it to be 
any thing but a Sport, and play themselves into that which 
others are whipp d for. Children should not have any thing 
like Work, or serious, laid on them; neither their Minds, 
nor Bodies will bear it. It injures their Healths; and their 

40 being forced and tied down to their Books in an Age at 
enmity with all such Restraint, has, I doubt not, been the 

149 I 5 r J Games for teaching Reading. 131 

Reason, why a great many have hated Books and Learning 
all their Lives after. Tis like a Surfeit, that leaves an 
Aversion behind not to be removed. 

150. I have therefore thought, that if Play-things 
were fitted to this Purpose, as they are usually to none, 5 
Contrivances might be made to teach Children to read, whilst 
they thought they were only playing. For Example, what if 
an Ivory-Ball were made like that of the Royal-oak Lottery, 
with thirty two Sides, or one rather of twenty four or twenty 
five Sides; and upon several of those Sides pasted on an A, 10 
upon several others B, on others C, and on others DPI 
would have you begin with but these four Letters, or 
perhaps only two at first; and when he is perfect in them, 
then add another; and so on till each Side having one 
Letter, there be on it the whole Alphabet. This I would 15 
have others play with before him, it being as good a sort of 
Play to lay a Stake who shall first throw an A or B, as who 
upon Dice shall throw Six or Seven. This being a Play 
amongst you, tempt him not to it, lest you make it Busi 
ness; for I would not have him understand tis any thing 20 
but a Play of older People, and I doubt not but he will 
take to it of himself. And that he may have the more 
Reason to think it is a Play, that he is sometimes in 
favour admitted to, when the Play is done the Ball 
should be laid up safe out of his Reach, that so it may 25 
not, by his having it in his keeping at any time, grow 
stale to him. 

151. To keep up his Eagerness to it, let him think 
it a Game belonging to those above him : And when, by 
this Means, he knows the Letters, by changing them into 30 
Syllables, he may learn to read, without knowing how he 
did so, and never have any Chiding or Trouble about it, 
nor fall out with Books because of the hard Usage and 
Vexation they have caus d him. Children, if you observe 
them, take abundance of Pains to learn several Games, 35 
which, if they should be enjoined them, they would abhor 
as a Task and Business. I know a Person of great Quality, 
(more yet to be honoured for his Learning and Virtue than 
for his Rank and high Place) who by pasting on the six 
Vowels (for in our Language Y is one) on the six Sides of 40 
a Die, and the remaining eighteen Consonants on the Sides 


132 Games for Reading. [ 151 155 

of three other Dice, has made this a Play for his Children, 
that he shall win who, at one Cast, throws most Words on 
these four Dice ; whereby his eldest Son, yet in Coats, has 
played himself into spelling, with great Eagerness, and with- 
5 out once having been chid for it or forced to it. 

152. I have seen little Girls exercise whole Hours 
together and take abundance of Pains to be expert at 
Dibstones as they call it. Whilst I have been looking on, 
I have thought it wanted only some good Contrivance to 

10 make them employ all that Industry about something that 
might be more useful to them ; and methinks tis only the 
Fault and Negligence of elder People that it is not so. 
Children are much less apt to be idle than Men ; and Men 
are to be blamed if some Part of that busy Humour be not 

15 turned to useful Things; which might be made usually as 
delightful to them as those they are employed in, if Men 
would be but half so forward to lead the Way, as these 
little Apes would be to follow. I imagine some wise 
Portuguese heretofore began this Fashion amongst the Chil- 

20 dren of his Country, where I have been told, as I said, it is 
impossible to hinder the Children from learning to read and 
write : And in some Parts of France they teach one another 
to sing and dance from the Cradle. 

153. The Letters pasted upon the Sides of the Dice, 

25 or Polygon, were best to be of the Size of those of the 
Folio Bible, to begin with, and none of them Capital Let 
ters ; when once he can read what is printed in such 
Letters, he will not long be ignorant of the great ones : 
And in the Beginning he should not be perplexed with 

30 Variety. With this Die also, you might have a Play just 
like the Royal Oak, which would be another Variety, and 
play for Cherries or Apples, &c. 

154. Besides these, twenty other Plays might be 
invented depending on Letters, which those who like this 

35 Way, may easily contrive and get made to this Use if they 
will. But the four Dice above-mention d I think so easy 
and useful, that it will be hard to find any better, and there 
will be scarce need of any other. 

155. Thus much for learning to read, which let him 

40 never be driven to, nor chid for ; cheat him into it if you 
can, but make it not a Business for him. J Tis better it be 

T 55> I 5 6 ] Amusing Books with Pictures. 133 

a Year later before he can read, than that he should this 
Way get an Aversion to Learning. If you have any Con 
tests with him, let it be in Matters of Moment, of Truth, 
and good Nature; but lay no Task on him about ABC. 
Use your Skill to make his Will supple and pliant to 5 
Reason : Teach him to love Credit and Commendation ; to 
abhor being thought ill or meanly of, especially by You and 
his Mother, and then the rest will come all easily. But I 
think if you will do that, you must not shackle and tie him 
up with Rules about indifferent Matters, nor rebuke him 10 
for every little Fault, or perhaps some that to others would 
seem great ones ; but of this I have said enough already. 

156. When by these gentle Ways he begins to read, 
some easy pleasant Book, suited to his Capacity, should be 
put into his Hands, wherein the Entertainment that he 15 
finds might draw him on, and reward his Pains in Reading, 
and yet not such as should fill his Head with perfectly use 
less Trumpery, or lay the Principles of Vice and Folly. 
To this Purpose, I think ssop s fables the best, which 
being Stories apt to delight and entertain a Child, may yet 20 
afford useful Reflections to a grown Man ; and if his 
Memory retain them all his Life after, he will not repent 
to find them there, amongst his manly Thoughts and serious 
Business. If his sEsop has Pictures in it, it will entertain 
him much the better, and encourage him to read, when it 25 
carries the Increase of Knowledge with it : For such visible 
Objects Children hear talked of in vain and without any 
Satisfaction whilst they have no Ideas of them ; those 
Ideas being not to be had from Sounds, but from the 
Things themselves or their Pictures. And therefore 1 30 
think as soon as he begins to spell, as many Pictures of 
Animals should be got him as can be found, with the 
printed Names to them, which at the same Time will invite 
him to read, and afford him Matter of Enquiry and Know 
ledge. Reynard the Fox is another Book I think may be 35 
made use of to the same Purpose. And if those about him 
will talk to him often about the Stories he has read, and 
hear him tell them, it will, besides other Advantages, add 
Encouragement and Delight to his Reading, when he finds 
there is some Use and Pleasure in it. These Baits seem 40 
wholly neglected in the ordinary Method; and tis usually 

134 Learning by Heart. The Bible. [ 156 158 

long before Learners find any Use or Pleasure in reading, 
which may tempt them to it, and so take Books only for 
fashionable Amusements, or impertinent Troubles, good for 

5 157. The Lord s Prayer, the Creeds, and Ten Com 
mandments, tis necessary he should learn perfectly by 
heart ; but, I think, not by reading them himself in his 
Primer, but by somebody s repeating them to him, even 
before he can read. But learning by heart, and learning to 

10 read, should not I think be mix d, and so one made to 
clog the other. But his learning to read should be made as 
little Trouble or Business to him as might be. 

What other Books there are in English of the Kind of 
those above-mentioned, fit to engage the Liking of Children, 

15 and tempt them to read, I do not know: But am apt to 
think, that Children being generally delivered over to the 
Method of Schools, where the Fear of the Rod is to inforce, 
and not any Pleasure of the Employment to invite them to 
learn, this Sort of useful Books, amongst the Number of 

20 silly ones that are of all Sorts, have yet had the Fate to be 
neglected ; and nothing that I know has been considered 
of this Kind out of the ordinary Road of the Horn-book, 
Primer, Psalter, Testament, and Bible. 

158. As for the Bible, which Children are usually 

25 employ d in to exercise and improve their Talent in reading, 
I think the promiscuous reading of it through by Chapters 
as they lie in Order, is so far from being of any Advantage 
to Children, either for the perfecting their Reading, or prin- 
cipling their Religion, that perhaps a worse could not be 

30 found. For what Pleasure or Encouragement can it be to 
a Child to exercise himself in reading those Parts of a Book 
where he understands nothing? And how little are the 
Law of Moses, the Song of Solomon, the Prophecies in the 
Old, and the Epistles and Apocalypse in the New Testa- 

35 ment, suited to a Child s Capacity? And though the 
History of the Evangelists and the Acts have something 
easier, yet, taken all together, it is very disproportional to 
the Understanding of Childhood. I grant that the Prin 
ciples of Religion are to be drawn from thence, and in the 

40 Words of the Scripture ; yet none should be propos d to a 
Child, but such as are suited to a Child s Capacity and 

158, 159] Learning by heart from the Bible. 135 

Notions. But tis far from this to read through the whole 
Bible, and that for reading s sake. And what an odd jumble 
of Thoughts must a Child have in his Head, if he have any 
at all, such as he should have concerning Religion, who in 
his tender Age reads all the Parts of the Bible indifferently 5 
as the Word of God without any other Distinction ! I am 
apt to think, that this in some Men has been the very 
Reason why they never had clear and distinct Thoughts of 
it all their Lifetime. 

159. And now I am by chance fallen on this Subject, 10 
give me leave to say, that there are some Parts of the Scrip 
ture which may be proper to be put into the Hands of a 
Child to engage him to read; such as are the Story of 
Joseph and his Brethren, of David and Goliah, of David 
and Jonathan, &c. and others that he should be made to 15 
read for his Instruction, as that, What you would have 
others do unto you, do you the same unto them ; and such 
other easy and plain moral Rules, which being fitly chosen, 
might often be made use of, both for Reading and Instruc 
tion together; and so often read till they are throughly 20 
fixed in the Memory ; and then afterwards, as he grows ripe 
for them, may in their Turns on fit Occasions be incul 
cated as the standing and sacred Rules of his Life and 
Actions. But the Reading of the whole Scripture indif 
ferently, is what I think very inconvenient for Children, 25 
till after having been made acquainted with the plainest 
fundamental Parts of it, they have got some kind of general 
View of what they ought principally to believe and practise ; 
which yet, I think, they ought to receive in the very Words 
of the Scripture, and not in such as Men prepossess d by 30 
Systems and Analogies are apt in this Case to make use of 
and force upon them. Dr. Worthington, to avoid this, has 
made a Catechism, which has all its Answers in the precise 
Words of the Scripture ; a Thing of good Example, and 
such a sound Form of Words as no Christian can except 35 
against as not fit for his Child to learn. Of this, as soon 
as he can say the Lord s Prayer, Creed, the ten Command 
ments, by Heart, it may be fit for him to learn a Question 
every Day, or every Week, as his Understanding is able to 
receive and his Memory to retain them. And when he has 40 
this Catechism perfectly by Heart, so as readily and roundly 

136 Writing. Drawing. [ 159 161 

to answer to any Question in the whole Book, it may be 
convenient to lodge in his Mind the remaining moral Rules 
scatter d up and down in the Bible, as the best Exercise of 
his Memory, and that which may be always a Rule to him, 
5 ready at Hand, in the whole Conduct of his Life. 

1 60. When he can read English well, it will be 

. . seasonable to enter him in Writing: And here 

the first Thing should be taught him is to hold 

his Pen right ; and this he should be perfect in before he 

10 should be suffered to put it to Paper: For not only Chil 
dren but any body else that would do any Thing well, 
should never be put upon too much of it at once, or be set 
to perfect themselves in two Parts of an Action at the same 
Time, if they can possibly be separated. I think the 

15 Italian Way of holding the Pen between the Thumb and 
the Fore-finger alone, may be best; but in this you may 
consult some good Writing-master, or any other Person 
who writes well and quick. When he has learn d to hold 
his Pen right, in the next Place he should learn how to 

20 lay his Paper, and place his Arm and Body to it. These 
Practices being got over, the Way to teach him to write 
without much Trouble, is to get a Plate graved with the 
Characters of such a Hand as you like best : But you must 
remember to have them a pretty deal bigger than he should 

25 ordinarily write ; for every one naturally comes by Degrees 
to write a less Hand than he at first was taught, but never 
a bigger. Such a Plate being graved, let several Sheets of 
good Writing-paper be printed off with red Ink, which he 
has nothing to do but go over with a good Pen fill d with 

30 black Ink, which will quickly bring his Hand to the For 
mation of those Characters, being at first shewed where to 
begin, and how to form every Letter. And when he can 
do that well, he must then exercise on fair Paper ; and so 
may easily be brought to write the Hand you desire. 

35 1 6 1. When he can write well and quick, I think it 
may be convenient not only to continue the 

Drawing. J . . . /... , , 

Exercise of his Hand in Writing, but also to 

improve the Use of it farther in Drawing ; a Thing very 

useful to a Gentleman in several Occasions ; but especially 

40 if he travel, as that which helps a Man often to express, in 

a few Lines well put together, what a whole Sheet of Paper 

i6i, 162] How much Drawing. Short-hand. 137 

in Writing would not be able to represent and make intelli 
gible. How many Buildings may a Man see, how many 
Machines and Habits meet with, the Ideas whereof would 
be easily retain d and communicated by a little Skill in 
Drawing ; which being committed to Words, are in danger 5 
to be lost, or at best but ill retained in the most exact 
Descriptions ? I do not mean that I would have your Son 
a perfect Painter ; to be that to any tolerable Degree, will 
require more Time than a young Gentleman can spare 
from his other Improvements of greater Moment. But so 10 
much Insight into Perspective and Skill in Drawing, as will 
enable him to represent tolerably on Paper any thing he 
sees, except Faces, may, I think, be got in a little Time, 
especially if he have a Genius to it; but where that is 
wanting, unless it be in the things absolutely necessary, it is 15 
better to let him pass them by quietly, than to vex him 
about them to no Purpose : And therefore in this, as in all 
other things not absolutely necessary, the Rule holds, Nil 
invita Minerva. 

H i. Short-hand, an Art, as I have been told, known 20 
only in England, may perhaps be thought worth , 

iU 1 v- . i- r T^ ,. i i ^ Short-hand. 

the learning, both for Dispatch in what Men 
write for their own Memory, and Concealment of what 
they would not have lie open to every Eye. For he that 
has once learn d any Sort of Character, may easily vary it 25 
to his own private Use or Fancy, and with more Contrac 
tion suit it to the Business he would employ it in. Mr. 
RicH*,, the best contriv d of any I have seen, may, as I 
think, by one who knows and considers Grammar well, be 
made much easier and shorter. But for the learning this 30 
compendious Way of Writing, there will be no need hastily 
to look out a Master; it will be early enough when any 
convenient Opportunity offers itself at any Time, after his 
Hand is well settled in fair and quick Writing. For Boys 
have but little use of Short-hand, and should by no means 35 
practise it till they write perfectly well, and have throughly 
fixed the Habit of doing so. 

162. As soon as he can speak English, tis time for 
him to learn some other Language. This no F / 
body doubts of, when French is propos d. And 40 

the Reason is, because People are accustomed to the right 

138 French. Latin. [ 162 164 

Way of teaching that Language, which is by talking it into 
Children in constant Conversation, and not by grammatical 
Rules. The Latin Tongue would easily be taught the 
same Way, if his Tutor, being constantly with him, would 
5 talk nothing else to him, and make him answer still in the 
same Language. But because French is a living Language, 
and to be used more in speaking, that should be first 
learned, that the yet pliant Organs of Speech might be 
accustomed to a due Formation of those Sounds, and he 

10 get the Habit of pronouncing French well, which is the 
harder to be done the longer it is delay d. 

163. When he can speak and read French well, which 
in this Method is usually in a Year or two, he 
should proceed to Latin, which tis a wonder 

15 Parents, when they have had the Experiment in French, 
should not think ought to be learned the same way, by 
talking and reading. Only Care is to be taken whilst he is 
learning these foreign Languages, by speaking and reading 
nothing else with his Tutor, that he do not forget to read 

20 English, which may be preserved by his Mother or some 
body else hearing him read some chosen Parts of the 
Scripture or other English Book every Day. 

164. Latin I look upon as absolutely necessary to a 
Gentleman ; and indeed Custom, which prevails over every 

25 thing, has made it so much a Part of Education, that even 
those Children are whipp d to it, and made spend many 
Hours of their precious Time uneasily in Latin, who, after 
they are once gone from School, are never to have more to 
do with it as long as they live. Can there be any thing 

30 more ridiculous, than that a Father should waste his own 
Money and his Son s Time in setting him to learn the 
Roman Language, when at the same Time he designs him 
for a Trade, wherein he having no use of Latin, fails not 
to forget that little which he brought from School, and 

35 which tis ten to one he abhors for the ill Usage it procured 
him ? Could it be believed, unless we had every where 
amongst us Examples of it, that a Child should be forced 
to learn the Rudiments of a Language which he is never to 
use in the Course of Life that he is designed to, and neglect 

40 all the while the writing a good Hand and casting Ac 
counts, which are of great Advantage in all Conditions of 

164 166] Latin without Grammar. 139 

Life, and to most Trades indispensably necessary? But 
though these Qualifications, requisite to Trade and Com 
merce and the Business of the World, are seldom or never 
to be had at Grammar-Schools, yet thither not only Gentle 
men send their younger Sons, intended for Trades, but 5 
even Tradesmen and Farmers fail not to send their Chil 
dren, though they have neither Intention nor Ability to 
make them Scholars. If you ask them why they do this, 
they think it as strange a Question as if you should ask 
them, Why they go to Church. Custom serves for Reason, 10 
and has, to those who take it for Reason, so consecrated 
this Method, that it is almost religiously observed by them, 
and they stick to it, as if their Children had scarce an 
orthodox Education unless they learned Lilly s Grammar. 

165. But how necessary soever Latin be to some, 15 
and is thought to be to others to whom it is of no manner 
of Use and Service ; yet the ordinary Way of learning it in 
a Grammar-School is that which having had Thoughts 
about I cannot be forward to encourage. The Reasons 
against it are so evident and cogent, that they have pre- 20 
vailed with some intelligent Persons to quit the ordinary 
Road, not without Success, though the Method made use of 
was not exactly what I imagine the easiest, and in short is 
this. To trouble the Child with no Grammar at all, but to 
have Latin, as English has been, without the Perplexity of 25 
Rules, talked into him ; for if you will consider it, Latin is 
no more unknown to a Child, when he comes into the 
World, than English : And yet he learns English without 
Master, Rule, or Grammar; and so might he Latin too, as 
Tully did, if he had some body always to talk to him in 30 
this Language. And when we so often see a French 
Woman teach an English Girl to speak and read French 
perfectly in a Year or two, without any Rule of Grammar, 
or any thing else but prattling to her, I cannot but wonder 
how Gentlemen have overseen this Way for their Sons, and 35 
thought them more dull or incapable than their Daughters. 

1 66. If therefore a Man could be got, who himself 
speaking good Latin, would always be about your Son, talk 
constantly to him, and suffer him to speak or read nothing 
else, this would be the true and genuine Way, and that Jjo 
which I would propose, not only as the easiest and best, 

140 Begin with Knowledge of Things. [ 166, 167 

1 wherein a Child might, without Pains or Chiding, get a 
Language, which others are wont to be whipt for at School 
six or seven Years together: But also as that, wherein at 
the same Time he might have his Mind and Manners 
5 formed, and he be instructed to boot in several Sciences, 
such as are a good Part of Geography, Astronomy, Chrono 
logy, Anatomy, besides some Parts of History, and all other 
Parts of Knowledge of Things that fall under the Senses 
and require little more than Memory. For there, if we 
10 would take the true Way, our Knowledge should begin, and 
in those Things be laid the Foundation; and not in the 
abstract Notions of Logick and Metaphysicks, which are 
fitter to amuse than inform the Understanding in its first 
setting out towards Knowledge. When young Men have 
15 had their Heads employ d a while in those abstract Specu 
lations without finding the Success and Improvement, or 
that Use of them, which they expected, they are apt to 
have mean Thoughts either of Learning or themselves ; 
they are tempted to quit their Studies, and throw away 
20 their Books as containing nothing but hard Words and 
empty Sounds ; or else, to conclude, that if there be any 
real Knowledge in them, they themselves have not Under 
standings capable of it. That this is so, perhaps I could 
assure you upon my own Experience. Amongst other 
25 Things to be learned by a young Gentleman in this Method, 
whilst others of his Age are wholly taken up with Latin 
and Languages, I may also set down Geometry for one ; 
having known a young Gentleman, bred something after 
this Way, able to demonstrate several Propositions in 
30 Euclid before he was thirteen. 

167. But if such a Man cannot be got, who speaks 

good Latin, and being able to instruct your Son in all these 

Parts of Knowledge, will undertake it by this Method ; J:he 

/next best is to have him taught as near this Way as may be, 

357 which is by taking some easy and pleasant Book, such as 

I ^Esop s Fables, and writing the English Translation (made as 

/ literal as it can be) in one Line, and the Latin Words which 

/ answer each of them, just over it in another. These let him 

/ read every Day over and over again, till he perfectly under- 

Jo stands the Latin ; and then go on to another Fable, till he 

be also perfect in that, not omitting what he is already 

167] Art of Teaching. 141 

perfect in, but sometimes reviewing that, to keep it in his 
Memory. And when he comes to write, let these be set 
him for Copies, which with the Exercise of his Hand will 
also advance him to Latin. This being a more imperfect 
Way than by talking Latin unto him ; the Formation of the 5 
Verbs first, and afterwards the Declensions of the Nouns 
and Pronouns perfectly learned by Heart, may facilitate his 
Acquaintance with the Genius and Manner of the Latin 
Tongue, which varies the Signification of Verbs and Nouns, 
not as the Modern Languages do by Particles prefix d, but 10 
by changing the last Syllables. More than this of Gram 
mar, I think he need not have, till he can read himself 
Sanctii Minerva, with Scioppius and Perizonius s Notes. 

In teaching of Children, this too, I think, is to be 
observed, that in most Cases where they stick, they are 15 
not to be farther puzzled by putting them upon finding it 
out themselves ; as by asking such Questions as these, 
viz.) Which is the Nominative Case, in the Sentence they 
are to construe ; or demanding what aufero signifies, to 
lead them to the Knowledge what abstulere signifies, &c. 20 
when they cannot readily tell. This wastes Time only in 
disturbing them ; for whilst they are learning, and apply 
themselves with Attention, they are to be kept in good 
Humour, and every Thing made easy to them, and as plea 
sant as possible. Therefore whereever they are at a Stand, 25 
and are willing to go forwards, help them presently over the 
Difficulty, without any Rebuke or Chiding, remembring, 
that where harsher Ways are taken, they are the Effect only 
of Pride and Peevishness in the Teacher, who expects Chil 
dren should instantly be Masters of as much as he knows ; 30 
whereas he should rather consider, that his Business is to 
settle in them Habits, not angrily to inculcate Rules, which 
serve for little in the Conduct of our Lives ; at least are of 
no use to Children, who forget them as soon as given. In 
Sciences where their Reason is to be exercised, I will not 35 
deny but this Method may sometimes be varied, and 
Difficulties proposed on purpose to excite Industry, and 
accustom the Mind to employ its own Strength and Saga 
city in Reasoning. But yet, I guess, this is not to be done 
to Children, whilst very young, nor at their Entrance upon 40 
any Sort of Knowledge : Then every Thing of itself is 

142 Children s Attention. [ 167 

difficult, and the great Use and Skill of a Teacher is to 
make all as easy as he can : But particularly in learning of 
Languages there is least Occasion for posing of Children. 
For Languages being to be learned by Rote, Custom and 
5 Memory, are then spoken in greatest Perfection, when all 
Rules of Grammar are utterly forgotten. I grant the Gram 
mar of a Language is sometimes very carefully to be studied, 
but it is not to be studied but by a grown Man, when he 
applies himself to the understanding of any Language criti- 

10 cally, which is seldom the Business of any but professed 
Scholars. This I think will be agreed to, that if a Gentle 
man be to study any Language, it ought to be that of his 
own Country, that he may understand the Language which 
he has constant Use of, with the utmost Accuracy. 

15 There is yet a further Reason, why Masters and Teach 
ers should raise no Difficulties to their Scholars ; but on 
the contrary should smooth their Way, and readily help 
them forwards, where they find them stop. Children s 
Minds are narrow and weak, and usually susceptible but of 

20 one Thought at once. Whatever is in a Child s Head, fills 
it for the time, especially if set on with any Passion. It 
should therefore be the Skill and Art of the Teacher to 
clear their Heads of all other Thoughts whilst they are 
learning of any Thing, the better to make room for what he 

25 would instill into them, that it may be received with Atten 
tion and Application, without which it leaves no Impression. 
The natural Temper of Children disposes their Minds to 
wander. Novelty alone takes them; whatever that presents, 
they are presently eager to have a Taste of, and are as soon 

30 satiated with it. They quickly grow weary of the same 
thing, and so have almost their whole Delight in Change 
and Variety. It is a Contradiction to the natural State of 
Childhood for them to fix their fleeting Thoughts. Whether 
this be owing to the Temper of their Brains, or the Quick- 

35 ness or Instability of their animal Spirits, over which the 
Mind has not yet got a full Command ; this is visible, that 
it is a Pain to Children to keep their Thoughts steady to 
any thing. A lasting continued Attention is one of the 
hardest Tasks can be imposed on them ; and therefore, he 

40 that requires their Application, should endeavour to make 
what he proposes as grateful and agreeable as possible ; at 

167] Attention lost by Harshness. 143 

least he ought to take care not to join any displeasing or 
frightful Idea with it. If they come not to their Books 
with some Kind of Liking and Relish, tis no wonder their 
Thoughts should be perpetually shifting from what disgusts 
them ; and seek better Entertainment in more pleasing 5 
Objects, after which they will unavoidably be gadding. 

Tis, I know, the usual Method of Tutors, to endeavour 
to procure Attention in their Scholars, and to fix their 
Minds to the Business in Hand, by Rebukes and Correc 
tions, if they find them ever so little wandering. But such 10 
Treatment is sure to produce the quite contrary Effect. 
Passionate Words or Blows from the Tutor fill the Child s 
Mind with Terror and Affrightment, which immediately 
takes it wholly up, and leaves no Room for other Impres 
sions. I believe there is no body that reads this, but may 15 
recollect what Disorder hasty or imperious Words from his 
Parents or Teachers have caused in his Thoughts ; how for 
the Time it has turned his Brains, so that he scarce knew 
what was said by or to him. He presently lost the Sight of 
what he was upon, his Mind was filled with Disorder and 20 
Confusion, and in that State was no longer capable of 
Attention to any thing else. 

Tis true, Parents and Governors ought to settle and 
establish their Authority by an Awe over the Minds of 
those under their Tuition ; and to rule them by that : But 25 
when they have got an Ascendant over them, they should 
use it with great Moderation, and not make themselves 
such Scare-crows that their Scholars should always tremble 
in their Sight. Such an Austerity may make their Govern 
ment easy to themselves, but of very little use to their 30 
Pupils. Tis impossible Children should learn any thing 
whilst their Thoughts are possessed and disturbed with any 
Passion, especially Fear, which makes the strongest Impres 
sion on their yet tender and weak Spirits. Keep the Mind 
in an easy calm Temper, when you would have it receive 35 
your Instructions or any Increase of Knowledge. Tis as 
impossible to draw fair and regular Characters on a trem 
bling Mind as on a shaking Paper. 

The great Skill of a Teacher is to get and keep the 
Attention of his Scholar ; whilst he has that, he is sure to 40 
advance as fast as the Learner s Abilities will carry him ; 

144 Deal gently with Children. |" 167 

and without that, all his Bustle and Pother will be to little 
or no Purpose. To attain this, he should make the Child 
comprehend (as much as may be) the Usefulness of what 
he teaches him, and let him see, by what he has learnt, 
5 that he can do something which he could not do before ; 
something, which gives him some Power and real Advan 
tage above others who are ignorant of it. To this he should 
add Sweetness in all his Instructions, and by a certain 
Tenderness in his whole Carriage, make the Child sensible 

10 that he loves him and designs nothing but his Good, the 
only way to beget Love in the Child, which will make him 
hearken to his Lessons, and relish what he teaches him. 

Nothing but Obstinacy should meet with any Imperious- 
ness or rough Usage. All other Faults should be corrected 

1 5 with a gentle Hand ; and kind engaging Words will work 
better and more effectually upon a willing Mind, and even 
prevent a good deal of that Perverseness which rough and 
imperious Usage often produces in well disposed and gene 
rous Minds. Tis true, Obstinacy and wilful Neglects must 

20 be mastered, even though it cost Blows to do it : But I am 
apt to think Perverseness in the Pupils is often the Effect of 
Frowardness in the Tutor ; and that most Children would 
seldom have deserved Blows, if needless and misapplied 
Roughness had not taught them Ill-nature, and given them 

25 an Aversion for their Teacher and all that comes from him. 
Inadvertency, Forgetfulness, Unsteadiness, and Wand- 
ring of Thought, are the natural Faults of Childhood ; and 
therefore, where they are not observed to be wilful, are to 
be mention d softly, and gain d upon by Time. If every 

30 Slip of this kind produces Anger and Rating, the Occasions 
of Rebuke and Corrections will return so often, that the 
Tutor will be a constant Terror and Uneasiness to his 
Pupils. Which one thing is enough to hinder their profiting 
by his Lessons, and to defeat all his Methods of Instruc- 

35 tion - 

Let the Awe he has got upon their Minds be so tem 
pered with the constant Marks of Tenderness and Good 
will, that Affection may spur them to their Duty, and make 
them find a Pleasure in complying with his Dictates. This 

40 will bring them with Satisfaction to their Tutor ; make them 
hearken to him, as to one who is their Friend, that cherishes 

167,168] Language-learning without Grammar. 145 

them, and takes Pains for their Good : This will keep their 
Thoughts easy and free whilst they are with him, the only 
Temper wherein the Mind is capable of receiving new 
Informations, and of admitting into it self those Impres 
sions, which, if not taken and retained, all that they and 5 
their Teachers do together is lost Labour; there is much 
Uneasiness and little Learning. 

1 68. When by this Way of interlining Latin and 
English one with another, he has got a moderate Know 
ledge of the Latin Tongue, he may then be advanced a 10 
little farther to the reading of some other easy Z0//#-Book, 
such as Justin or Eutropius ; and to make the Reading and 
Understanding of it the less tedious and difficult to him, let 
him help himself if he please with the English Translation. 
Nor let the Objection that he will then know it only by 15 
rote, fright any one. This, when well consider d, is not of 
any Moment against, but plainly for this Way of learning a 
Language. For Languages are only to be learned by rote ; 
and a Man who does not speak English or Latin perfectly 
by rote, so that having thought of the thing he would speak 20 
of, his Tongue of Course, without Thought of Rule or 
Grammar, falls into the proper Expression and Idiom of 
that Language, does not speak it well, nor is Master of it. 
And I would fai-n have any one name to me that Tongue, 
that any one can learn, or speak as he should do, by the 25 
Rules of Grammar. Languages were made not by Rules 
or Art, but by Accident, and the common Use of the 
People. And he that will speak them well, has no other Rule 
but that ; nor any thing to trust to, but his Memory, and 
the Habit of speaking after the Fashion learned from those, 30 
that are allowed to speak properly, which in other Words is 
only to speak by rote. 

It will possibly be asked here, is Grammar then of no 
Use ? and have those who have taken so much Pains in 
reducing several Languages to Rules and Observations ; 35 
who have writ so much about Declensions and Conjugations, 
about Concords and Syntaxis, lost their Labour, and been 
learned to no purpose? I say not so; Grammar has its 
Place too. But this I think I may say, There is more stir 
a great deal made with it than there needs, and those are 40 
tormented about it, to whom it does not at all belong; I 

o. 10 

146 Grammar, by whom needed. [ 168 

mean Children, at the Age wherein they are usually per 
plexed with it in Grammar-Schools. 

There is nothing more evident, than that Languages 
learnt by rote serve well enough for the common Affairs of 
5 Life and ordinary Commerce. Nay, Persons of Quality of 
the softer Sex, and such of them as have spent their Time 
in well-bred Company, shew us, that this plain natural Way, 
without the least Study or Knowledge of Grammar, can 
carry them to a great Degree of Elegancy and Politeness 

10 in their Language: And there are Ladies who, without 
knowing what Tenses and Participles, Adverbs and Preposi 
tions are, speak as properly and as correctly (they might 
take it for an ill Compliment if I said as any Country 
School-Master) as most Gentlemen who have been bred up 

15 in the ordinary Methods of Grammar-Schools. Grammar 
therefore we see may be spared in some Cases. The Ques 
tion then will be, To whom should it be taught, and when ? 
To this I answer ; 

1. Men learn Languages for the ordinary Intercourse 
20 of Society and Communication of Thoughts in common 

Life, without any farther Design in the Use of them. And 
for this Purpose, the original Way of learning a Language 
by Conversation not only serves well enough, but is to be 
preferred as the most expedite, proper and natural. There- 

25 fore, to this Use of Language one may answer, That Gram 
mar is not necessary. This so many of my Readers must 
be forced to allow, as understand what I here say, and who 
conversing with others, understand them without having 
ever been taught the Grammar of the English Tongue. 

30 Which I suppose is the Case of incomparably the greatest 
Part of English Men, of whom I have never yet known any 
one who learned his Mother-Tongue by Rules. 

2. Others there are, the greatest part of whose Busi 
ness in this World is to be done with their Tongues and 

35 with their Pens ; and to these it is convenient, if not neces 
sary, that they should speak properly and correctly, whereby 
they may let their Thoughts into other Men s Minds the 
more easily, and with the greater Impression. Upon this 
account it is, that any sort of Speaking, so as will make 

40 him be understood, is not thought enough for a Gentleman. 
He ought to study Grammar amongst the other Helps of 

168] Grammar of the Mother Tongue. 147 

speaking well, but it must be the Grammar of his own 
Tongue, of the Language he uses, that he may understand 
his own Country Speech nicely, and speak it properly, 
without shocking the Ears of those it is addressed to, with 
Solecisms and offensive Irregularities. And to this Purpose 5 
Grammar is necessary ; but it is the Grammar only of their 
own proper Tongues, and to those only who would take 
Pains in cultivating their Language, and in perfecting their 
Stiles. Whether all Gentlemen should not do this, I leave 
to be considered, since the want of Propriety and gram- 10 
matical Exactness is thought very misbecoming one of that 
Rank, and usually draws on one guilty of such Faults the 
Censure of having had a lower Breeding and worse Com 
pany than suits with his Quality. If this be so, (as I 
suppose it is) it will be Matter of Wonder why young 15 
Gentlemen are forced to learn the Grammars of foreign and 
dead Languages, and are never once told of the Grammar 
of their own Tongues : They do not so much as know 
there is any such thing, much less is it made their Business 
to be instructed in it. Nor is their own Language ever 20 
proposed to them as worthy their Care and cultivating, 
though they have daily Use of it, and are not seldom, in the 
future Course of their Lives, judg d of by their handsome 
or awkward way of expressing themselves in it. Whereas 
the Languages whose Grammars they have been so much 25 
employed in, are such as probably they shall scarce ever 
speak or write ; or if, upon Occasion, this should happen, 
they should be excused for the Mistakes and Faults they 
make in it. Would not a Chinese who took notice of this 
way of Breeding, be apt to imagine that all our young 30 
Gentlemen were designed to be Teachers and Professors of 
the dead Languages of foreign Countries, and not to be 
Men of Business in their own? 

3. There is a third Sort of Men, who apply themselves 
to two or three foreign, dead, and (which amongst us are 35 
called the) learned Languages, make them their Study, and 
pique themselves upon their Skill in them. No doubt, 
those who propose to themselves the learning of any Lan 
guage with this View, and would be critically exact in it, 
ought carefully to study the Grammar of it. I would not 4 
be mistaken here, as if this were to undervalue Greek and 

10 2 

148 Grammar, when to be taught. [ 168 

Latin. I grant these are Languages of great Use and 
Excellency, and a Man can have no place among the 
Learned in this Part of the World, who is a Stranger to 
them. But the Knowledge a Gentleman would ordinarily 
5 draw for his Use out of the Roman and Greek Writers, I 
think he may attain without studying the Grammars of 
those Tongues, and by bare reading, may come to under 
stand them sufficiently for all his Purposes. How much 
farther he shall at any time be concerned to look into the 
10 Grammar and critical Niceties of either of these Tongues, 
he himself will be able to determine when he comes to pro 
pose to himself the Study of any thing that shall require it. 
Which brings me to the other Part of the Enquiry, viz. 

15 To which, upon the premised Grounds, the Answer is 
obvious, viz. 

That if Grammar ought to be taught at any time, it must 
be to one that can speak the Language already ; how else 
can he be taught the Grammar of it? This at least is 

20 evident from the Practice of the wise and learned Nations 
amongst the Antients. They made it a Part of Education to 
cultivate their own, not foreign Tongues. The Greeks 
counted all other Nations barbarous, and had a Contempt 
for their Languages. And tho the Greek Learning grew in 

25 Credit amongst the Romans, towards the End of their Com 
monwealth, yet it was the Roman Tongue that was made the 
Study of their Youth: Their own Language they were to 
make use of, and therefore it was their own Language they 
were instructed and exercised in. 

50 But, more particularly to determine the proper Season 
for Grammar, I do not see how it can reasonably be made 
any one s Study, but as an Introduction to Rhetorick; when 
it is thought Time to put any one upon the Care of polish 
ing his Tongue, and of speaking better than the Illiterate, 

35 then is the Time for him to be instructed in the Rules of 
Grammar, and not before. For Grammar being to teach 
Men not to speak, but to speak correctly and according to 
the exact Rules of the Tongue, which is one Part of Ele 
gancy, there is little Use of the one to him that has no 

i68 lyoJWordsandThings. NoLatinThemes. 149 

Need of the other ; where Rhetorick is not necessary, 
Grammar may be spared. I know not why any one should 
waste his Time, and beat his Head about the Latin Grammar, 
who does not intend to be a Critick, or make Speeches and 
write Dispatches in it. When any one finds in himself a 5 
Necessity or Disposition to study any foreign Language to 
the bottom, and to be nicely exact in the Knowledge of it, 
it will be time enough to take a grammatical Survey of it. 
If his use of it be only to understand some Books writ in 
it, without a critical Knowledge of the Tongue itself, reading i o 
alone, as I have said, will attain this End, without charging 
the Mind with the multiplied Rules and Intricacies of 

169. For the Exercise of his Writing, let him some 
times translate Latin into English : But the learning of 1 5 
Latin being nothing but the learning of Words, a very un 
pleasant Business both to young and old, join as much 
other real Knowledge with it as you can, beginning still 
with that which lies most obvious to the Senses ; such as is 
the Knowledge of Minerals, Plants and Animals, and 20 
particularly Timber and Fruit-Trees, their Parts, and Ways 
of Propagation, wherein a great deal may be taught a Child 
which will not be useless to the Man: But more especially 
Geography, Astronomy, and Anatomy. But whatever you 
are teaching him, have a care still that you do not clog him 25 
with too much at once; or make any thing his Business but 
downright Virtue, or reprove him for any thing but Vice, or 
some apparent Tendency to it. 

170. But if after all his Fate be to go to School to 
get the Latin Tongue, twill be in vain to talk to you 30 
concerning the Method I think best to be observ d in 
Schools; you must submit to that you find there, not expect 
to have it changed for your Son; but yet by all Means 
obtain, if you can, that he be not employed in making 
Latin Themes and Declamations, and least of all, Verses 35 
of any Kind. You may insist on it, if it will do any good, 
that you have no Design to make him either a Latin Orator 
or Poet, but barely would have him understand perfectly a 
Latin Author; and that you observe, those who teach any 
of the modern Languages, and that with Success, never 40 
amuse their Scholars to make Speeches or Verses either in 

150 Against Latin Themes. [ 170 172 

French or Italian, their Business being Language barely, and 
not Invention. 

171. But to tell you a little more fully 

Themes, ^y j wou i(j no t h ave him exercised in making 

5 of Themes and Verses, i. As to Themes, they have, I 

confess, the Pretence of something useful, which is to teach 

People to speak handsomly and well on any Subject ; which, 

if it could be attained this way, I own would be a great 

Advantage, there being nothing more becoming a Gentleman, 

10 nor more useful in all the Occurrences of Life, than to be 
able, on any Occasion, to speak well and to the Purpose. 
But this I say, that the making of Themes, as is usual at 
Schools, helps not one Jot towards it : For do but consider 
what it is, in making a Theme, that a young Lad is employed 

15 about; it is to make a Speech on some Latin Saying; as 
Omnia vincit amor; or Non licet in Bello bis peccare, 6r. 
And here the poor Lad, who wants Knowledge of those 
Things he is to speak of, which is to be had only from Time 
and Observation, must set his Invention on the Rack, to say 

20 something where he knows nothing; which is a sort of 
Egyptian Tyranny, to bid them make Bricks who have not 
yet any of the Materials. And therefore it is usual in such 
Cases for the poor Children to go to those of higher Forms 
with this Petition, Pray give me a little Sense; which, whether 

25 it be more reasonable or more ridiculous, is not easy to 
determine. Before a Man can be in any Capacity to speak 
on any Subject, tis necessary he be acquainted with it; 
or else it is as foolish to set him to discourse of it, as to 
set a blind Man to talk of Colours, or a deaf Man of Musick. 

30 And would you not think him a little crack d, who would 
require another to make an Argument on a moot Point, who 
understands nothing of our Laws ? And what, I pray, do 
School-Boys understand concerning those Matters which are 
used to be proposed to them in their Themes as Subjects to 

35 discourse on, to whet and exercise their Fancies? 

172. In the next Place, consider the Language that 
their Themes are made in : Tis Latin, a Language foreign 
in their Country, and long since dead every where: A 
Language which your Son. tis a thousand to one, shall 

40 never have an Occasion once to make a Speech in as long 
as he lives after he comes to be a Man ; and a Language 

i72,i73]Speakingextempore. English Themes. 151 

wherein the Manner of expressing one s self is so far differ 
ent from ours, that to be perfect in that would very little 
improve the Purity and Facility of his English Stile. Besides 
that, there is now so little Room or Use for set Speeches 
in our own Language in any Part of our English Business, 5 
that I can see no Pretence for this Sort of Exercise in our 
Schools, unless it can be supposed, that the making of set 
Latin Speeches should be the Way to teach Men to speak 
well in English extempore. The Way to that, I should think 
rather to be this : That there should be propos d to young 10 
Gentlemen rational and useful Questions, suited to their Age 
and Capacities, and on Subjects not wholly unknown to 
them nor out of their Way : Such as these, when they are 
ripe for Exercises of this Nature, they should extempore, 
or after a little Meditation upon the Spot, speak to, without 15 
penning of any thing: For I ask, if we will examine the 
Effects of this Way of learning to speak well, who speak 
best in any Business, when Occasion calls them to it upon 
any Debate, either those who have accustomed themselves to 
compose and write down beforehand what they would say; 20 
or those, who thinking only of the Matter, to understand 
that as well as they can, use themselves only to speak 
extempore ? And he that shall judge by this, will be little apt 
to think, that the accustoming him to studied Speeches and 
set Compositions, is the Way to fit a young Gentleman for 25 

173. But perhaps we shall be told, tis to improve and 
perfect them in the Latin Tongue. Tis true, that is their 
proper Business at School; but the making of Themes is not 
the Way to it: That perplexes their Brains about Invention 30 
of things to be said, not about the Signification of Words to 
be learn d; and when they are making a Theme, tis 
Thoughts they search and sweat for, and not Language. But 
the Learning and Mastery of a Tongue being uneasy and 
unpleasant enough in itself, should not be cumbred with any 35 
other Difficulties, as is done in this way of proceeding. In 
fine, if Boys Invention be to be quicken d by such Exercise, 
let them make Themes in English, where they have Facility 
and a Command of Words, and will better see what kind of 
Thoughts they have, when put into their own Language. 40 
And if the Latin Tongue be to be learned, let it be done 

152 No Steps to Parnassus. [ 173, 174 

the easiest Way, without toiling and disgusting the Mind by 
so uneasy an Employment as that of making Speeches joined 
to it. 

174. If these may be any Reasons against Children s 
c making Latin Themes at School. I have much 

*J yTSS, ^ 

more to say, and of more Weight, against their 
making Verses; Verses of any Sort: For if he has no Genius 
to Poetry, tis the most unreasonable thing in the World to 
torment a Child and waste his Time about that which can 

10 never succeed; and if he have a poetick Vein, tis to me 
the strangest thing in the World that the Father should de 
sire or suffer it to be cherished or improved. Methinks the 
Parents should labour to have it stifled and suppressed as 
much as may be; and I know not what Reason a Father 

15 can have to wish his Son a Poet, who does not desire to 
have him bid Defiance to all other Callings and Business ; 
which is not yet the worst of the Case; for if he proves a suc 
cessful Rhymer, and gets once the Reputation of a Wit, I 
desire it may be considered what Company and Places he 

20 is like to spend his Time in, nay, and Estate too: For it is 
very seldom seen, that any one discovers Mines of Gold or 
Silver in Parnassus. Tis a pleasant Air, but a barren Soil ; 
and there are very few Instances of those who have added to 
their Patrimony by any thing they have reaped from thence. 

25 Poetry and Gaming, which usually go together, are alike in 
this too, that they seldom bring any Advantage but to those 
who have nothing else to live on. Men of Estates almost 
constantly go away Losers ; and tis well if they escape at a 
cheaper rate than their whole Estates, or the greatest Part of 

30 them. If therefore you would not have your Son the Fiddle 
to every jovial Company, without whom the Sparks could 
not relish their Wine nor know how to pass an Afternoon 
idly; if you would not have him to waste his Time and 
Estate to divert others, and contemn the dirty Acres left him 

35 by his Ancestors, I do not think you will much care he 
should be a Poet, or that his School-master should enter 
him in versifying. But yet, if any one will think Poetry a 
desirable Quality in his Son, and that the Study of it would 
raise his Fancy and Parts, he must needs yet confess, that to 

40 that End reading the excellent Greek and Roman Poets is of 
more Use than making bad Verses of his own, in a Lan- 

174 J?6] Against much learning by heart. 153 

guage that is not his own. And he whose Design it is to ex 
cel in English Poetry, would not, I guess, think the Way to 
it were to make his first Essays in Latin Verses. 

175. Another thing very ordinary in the vulgar Method 
of Grammar-Schools there is, of which I see no 5 

Use at all, unless it be to baulk young Lads in 
the Way to learning Languages, which, in my Opinion, 
should be made as easy and pleasant as may be; and that 
which was painful in it, as much as possible quite removed. 
That which I mean, and here complain of, is, their being 10 
forced to learn by heart, great Parcels of the Authors which 
are taught them; wherein I can discover no Advantage at 
all, especially to the Business they are upon. Languages 
are to be learned only by Reading and Talking, and not by 
Scraps of Authors got by heart ; which when a Man s Head 15 
is stuffed with, he has got the just Furniture of a Pedant, 
and tis the ready Way to make him one ; than which there 
is nothing less becoming a Gentleman. For what can be 
more ridiculous, than to mix the rich and handsome Thoughts 
and Sayings of others with a deal of poor Stuff of his own : 20 
which is thereby the more exposed, and has no other Grace 
in it, nor will otherwise recommend the Speaker, than a 
thread-bare Russet Coat would, that was set off with large 
Patches of Scarlet and glittering Brocade. Indeed, where a 
Passage comes in the way, whose Matter is worth Remem- 25 
brance, and the Expression of it very close and excellent, (as 
there are many such in the antient Authors) it may not be 
amiss to lodge it in the Mind of young Scholars, and with 
such admirable Strokes of those great Masters sometimes 
exercise the Memories of School-Boys. But their learning of 30 
their Lessons by Heart, as they happen to fall out in their 
Books, without Choice or Distinction, I know not what it 
serves for, but to mispend their Time and Pains, and give 
them a Disgust and Aversion to their Books, wherein they 
find nothing but useless Trouble. 35 

176. I hear it is said, That Children should be em- 
ploy d in getting things by heart, to exercise and improve 
their Memories. I could wish this were said with as much 
Authority of Reason, as it is with Forwardness of Assurance, 
and that this Practice were established upon good Observa- 40 
tion more than old Custom : For it is evident, that Strength 

154 Memory a natural Gift. [ 176 

of Memory is owing to an happy Constitution, and not to any 
habitual Improvement got by Exercise. "Pis true, what the 
Mind is intent upon, and, for fear of letting it slip, often im 
prints afresh on itself by frequent Reflection, that it is apt to 
5 retain, but still according to its own natural Strength of Reten- 
ti6n. An Impression made on Bees-wax or Lead, will not 
last so long as on Brass or Steel. Indeed, if it be renew d 
often, it may last the longer ; but every new reflecting on it 
is a new Impression ; and tis from thence one is to reckon, 

10 if one would know how long the Mind retains it. But the 
learning Pages of Latin by Heart, no more fits the Memory 
for Retention of any thing else, than the graving of one 
Sentence in Lead makes it the more capable of retaining 
firmly any other Characters. If such a sort of Exercise of 

15 the Memory were able to give it Strength, and improve our 
Parts, Players of all other People must needs have the best 
Memories and be the best Company. But whether the 
Scraps they have got into their Heads this way, make them 
remember other things the better ; and whether their Parts 

20 be improved proportionably to the Pains they have taken in 
getting by heart others Sayings, Experience will shew. 
Memory is so necessary to all Parts and Conditions of Life, 
and so little is to be done without it, that we are not to fear 
it should grow dull and useless for want of Exercise, if Ex- 

25 ercise would make it grow stronger. But I fear this Faculty 
of the Mind is not capable of much Help and Amendment 
in general by any Exercise or Endeavour of ours, at least 
not by that used upon this Pretence in Grammar-Schools. 
And if Xerxes was able to call every common Soldier by 

30 Name in his Army that consisted of no less than an hundred 
thousand Men, I think it may be guessed, he got not this 
wonderful Ability by learning his Lessons by heart when he 
was a Boy. This Method of exercising and improving the 
Memory by toilsome Repetitions without Book of what they 

35 read, is, I think, little used in the Education of Princes, 
which if it had that Advantage is talked of, should be as 
little neglected in them as in the meanest School-Boys : 
Princes having as much need of good Memories as any Men 
living, and have generally an equal Share in this Faculty 

40 with other Men; though it has never been taken care of this 
Way. What the Mind is intent upon and careful of, that it 

176, 177] How to exercise Memory. 155 

remembers best, and for the Reason above-mentioned : To 
which, if Method and Order be joined, all is done, I think, 
that can be, for the Help of a weak Memory; and he that 
will take any other Way to do it, especially that of charging 
it with a Train of other Peoples Words, which he that learns 5 
cares not for, will, I guess, scarce find the Profit answer half 
the Time and Pains employ d in it. 

I do not mean hereby, that there should be no Exercise 
given to Children s Memories. I think their Memories 
should be employ d, but not in learning by rote whole 10 
Pages out of Books, which, the Lesson being once said, 
and that Task over, are delivered up again to Oblivion and 
neglected for ever. This mends neither the Memory nor 
the Mind. What they should learn by heart out of Authors, 
I have above mentioned : And such wise and useful Sen- 15 
tences being once given in charge to their Memories, they 
should never be sufifer d to forget again, but be often called 
to account for them ; whereby, besides the Use those Say 
ings may be to them in their future Life, as so many good 
Rules and Observations, they will be taught to reflect 20 
often, and bethink themselves what they have to remember, 
which is the only way to make the Memory quick and 
useful. The Custom of frequent Reflection will keep their 
Minds from running adrift, and call their Thoughts home 
from useless unattentive Roving : And therefore I think 25 
it may do well, to give them something every Day to 
remember, but something still, that is in itself worth the 
remembring, and what you would never have out of Mind, 
whenever you call, or they themselves search for it. This 
will oblige them often to turn their Thoughts inwards, than 30 
which you cannot wish them a better intellectual habit. 

177. But under whose Care soever a Child is put to 
be taught during the tender and flexible Years . 

of his Life, this is certain, it should be one 
who thinks Latin and Language the least Part of Educa- 35 
tion ; one who knowing how much Virtue and a well- 
temper d Soul is to be preferred to any sort of Learning or 
Language, makes it his chief Business to form the Mind of 
his Scholars, and give that a right Disposition ; which if 
once got, though all the rest should be neglected, would in 40 
due Time produce all the rest; and which, if it be not 

156 Latin Bible. Tutor again. [ 177, 178 

got and settled so as to keep out ill and vicious Habits, 
Languages and Sciences and all the other Accomplishments 
of Education, will be to no Purpose but to make the worse 
or more dangerous Man. And indeed whatever Stir there 
5 is made about getting of Latin as the great and difficult 
Business, his Mother may teach it him herself, if she will 
but spend two or three Hours in a Day with him, and 
make him read the Evangelists in Latin to her: For she 
need but buy a Latin Testament, and having got some 

10 body to mark the last Syllable but one where it is long in 
Words above two Syllables, (which is enough to regulate 
her Pronunciation, and Accenting the Words) read daily in 
the Gospels, and then let her avoid understanding them in 
Latin if she can. And when she understands the Evan- 

15 gelists in Latin, let her, in the same Manner read ssc*/s 
Fables, and so proceed on to Eutropius, Justin, and other 
such Books. I do not mention this, as an Imagination of 
what I fancy may do, but as of a thing I have known done, 
and the Latin Tongue with Ease got this way. 

20 But, to return to what I was saying : He that takes on 
him the Charge of bringing up young Men, especially 
young Gentlemen, should have something more in him 
than Latin, more than even a Knowledge in the Liberal 
Sciences : He should be a Person of eminent Virtue and 

25 Prudence, and with good Sense, have good Humour, and 
the Skill to carry himself with Gravity, Ease and Kindness, 
in a constant Conversation with his Pupils. But of this I 
have spoken at large in another Place. 

178. At the same Time that he is learning French 

3 and Latin, a Child, as has been said, may also be enter d 
in Arithmetick, Geography, Chronology, History, and Geo 
metry too. For if these be taught him in French or Latin, 
when he begins once to understand either of these Tongues, 
he will get a Knowledge in these Sciences, and the Lan- 

35 guage to boot. 

Geography I think should be begun with : For the 
Geo ath l earm n f tne Figure of the Globe, the Situa 
tion and Boundaries of the four Parts of the 
World, and that of particular Kingdoms and Countries, 

4 being only an Exercise of the Eyes and Memory, a Child 
with Pleasure will learn and retain them. And this is so 

178 180] Use of the Globes. Arithmetic. 157 

certain, that I now live in the House with a Child whom 
his Mother has so well instructed this Way in Geography, 
that he knew the Limits of the four Parts of the World, 
could readily point, being ask d, to any Country upon the 
Globe, or any County in the Map of England; knew all 5 
the great Rivers, Promontories, Straits and Bays in the 
World, and could find the Longitude and Latitude of any 
Place, before he was six Years old. These things, that he 
will thus learn by Sight, and have by rote in his Memory, 
are not all, I confess, that he is to learn upon the Globes. 10 
But yet it is a good Step and Preparation to it, and will 
make the Remainder much easier, when his Judgment is 
grown ripe enough for it : Besides that, it gets so much 
Time now ; and by the Pleasure of knowing Things, leads 
him on insensibly to the gaining of Languages. 1 5 

179. When he has the natural Parts of the Globe 
well fix d in his Memory, it may then be time 

i ^-,7 , ^ T^ i i -r-. f Anthmetick. 

to begin Anthmetick. By the natural Parts of 
the Globe, I mean the several Positions of the Parts of the 
Earth and Sea, under different Names and Distinctions of 20 
Countries, not coming yet to those artificial and imaginary 
Lines which have been invented, and are only suppos d for 
the better Improvement of that Science. 

1 80. Arithmetick is the easiest, and consequently the 
first Sort of abstract Reasoning, which the Mind commonly 25 
bears or accustoms itself to : And is of so general Use in 
all Parts of Life and Business, that scarce any Thing is to 
be done without it. This is certain, a Man cannot have 
too much of it, nor too perfectly: He should therefore 
begin to be exercis d in Counting, as soon, and as far, as he 30 
is capable of it ; and do something in it every Day, till he 
is Master of the Art of Numbers. When he understands 
Addition and Subtraction, he then may be advanced farther 
in Geography, after he is acquainted with the Poles, Zones, 
Parallel Circles, and Meridians, be taught Longitude and 35 
Latitude, and by them be made to understand the Use of 
Maps, and by the Numbers placed on their Sides, to know 
the respective Situation of Countries, and how to find them 
out on the Terrestrial Globe. Which when he can readily 
do, he may then be entered in the Celestial ; Astronomy 4 
and there going over all the Circles again, with 

158 Astronomy. Geometry. [ 180, 181 

a more particular Observation of the Ecliptick, or Zodiack, 
to fix them all very clearly and distinctly in his Mind, he 
may be taught the Figure and Position of the several Con 
stellations, which may be shewed him first upon the Globe, 
5 and then in the Heavens. 

When that is done, and he knows pretty well the Con 
stellations of this our Hemisphere, it may be time to give 
him some Notions of this our planetary World; and to 
that Purpose, it may not be amiss to make him a Draught 

10 of the Copernican System, and therein explain to him the 
Situation of the Planets, their respective Distances from 
the Sun, the Centre of their Revolutions. This will pre 
pare him to understand the Motion and Theory of the 
Planets, the most easy and natural Way. For since Astro- 

15 nomers no longer doubt of the Motion of the Planets about 
the Sun, it is fit he should proceed upon that Hypothesis, 
which is not only the simplest and least perplexed for a 
Learner, but also the likeliest to be true in itself. But in 
this, as in all other Parts of Instruction, great Care must 

20 be taken with Children, to begin with that which is plain 
and simple, and to teach them as little as can be at once, 
and settle that well in their Heads before you proceed to 
the next, or any thing new in that Science. Give them 
first one simple Idea, and see that they take it right, and 

25 perfectly comprehend it before you go any farther, and then 
add some other simple Idea which lies next in your Way to 
what you aim at ; and so proceeding by gentle and insen 
sible Steps, Children without Confusion and Amazement 
will have their Understandings opened and their Thoughts 

30 extended farther than could have been expected. And 
when any one has learn d any thing himself, there is no 
such Way to fix it in his Memory, and to encourage him to 
go on, as to set him to teach it others. 

1 8 1. When he has once got such an acquaintance 

35 Geometr w * tn tne Globes, as is abovementioned, he may 

be fit to be tried in a little Geometry ; wherein 

I think the six first Books of Euclid enough for him to be 

taught. For I am in some doubt, whether more to a Man 

of Business be necessary or useful. At least, if he have a 

40 Genius and Inclination to it, being enter d so far by his 
Tutor, he will be able to go on of himself without a Teacher. 

181183] The Globes. Chronology. 159 

The Globes therefore must be studied, and that dili 
gently; and I think may be begun betimes, if the Tutor 
will be but careful to distinguish what the Child is capable 
of knowing, and what not ; for which this may be a Rule 
that perhaps will go a pretty way, viz. that Children may be 5 
taught any Thing that falls under their Senses, especially 
their Sight, as far as their Memories only are exercised : 
And thus a Child very young may learn, which is the 
^Equator, which the Meridian, &c. which Europe, and 
which England, upon the Globes, as soon almost as he 10 
knows the Rooms of the House he lives in, if Care be 
taken not to teach him too much at once, nor to set him 
upon a new Part, till that which he is upon be perfectly 
learned and fixed in his Memory. 

182. With Geography, Chronology ought to go hand 15 
in hand, I mean the general Part of it, so that 

i i i * i IT- r i 11 Chronology. 

he may have in his Mind a View of the whole 
Current of Time, and the several considerable Epochs that 
are made use of in History. Without these two, History, 
which is the great Mistress of Prudence and civil Know- 20 
ledge, and ought to be the proper Study of a Gentleman, or 
Man of Business in the World; without Geography and 
Chronology, I say, History will be very ill retain d, and very 
little useful; but be only a Jumble of Matters of Fact, 
confusedly heaped together without Order or Instruction. 25 
Tis by these two that the Actions of Mankind are ranked 
into their proper Places of Time and Countries, under 
which Circumstances they are not only much easier kept in 
the Memory, but in that natural Order, are only capable to 
afford those Observations which make a Man the better 30 
and the abler for reading them. 

183. When I speak of Chronology as a Science he 
should be perfect in, I do not mean the little Controversies 
that are in it. These are endless, and most of them of so 
little Importance to a Gentleman, as not to deserve to be 35 
enquir d into, were they capable of an easy Decision. And 
therefore all that learned Noise and Dust of the Chrono- 
logist is wholly to be avoided. The most useful Book I 
have seen in that Part of Learning, is a small Treatise of 
Straiichius, which is printed in Twelves, under the Title of 40 
Breviarium Chronologicum, out of which may be selected all 

160 History. Ethics. [ 183 185 

that is necessary to be taught a young Gentleman concern 
ing Chronology ; for all that is in that Treatise a Learner 
need not be cumbred with. He has in him the most 
remarkable or useful Epochs reduced all to that of the 
5 Julian Period, which is the easiest and plainest and surest 
Method that can be made use of in Chronology. To this 
Treatise of Strauchius, Helvicus s Tables may be added, as 
a Book to be turned to on all Occasions. 

184. As nothing teaches, so nothing delights more 

10 H t r than History. The first of these recommends 

it to the Study of grown Men, the latter makes 

me think it the fittest for a young Lad, who as soon as he 

is instructed in Chronology, and acquainted with the several 

Epochs in use in this Part of the World, and can reduce 

15 them to the Julian Period, should then have some Latin 
History put into his Hand. The Choice should be directed 
by the Easiness of the Stile ; for whereever he begins, 
Chronology will keep it from Confusion ; and the Pleasant 
ness of the Subject inviting him to read, the Language will 

20 insensibly be got without that terrible Vexation and Un 
easiness which Children suffer where they are put into 
Books beyond their Capacity ; such as are the Roman 
Orators and Poets, only to learn the Roman Language. 
When he has by reading master d the easier, such perhaps 

25 as Justin, Eutropius, Qiiintius Curtius, &=c. the next Degree 
to these will give him no great Trouble : And thus by a 
gradual Progress from the plainest and easiest Historians, 
he may at last come to read the most difficult and sublime 
of the Latin Authors, such as are Tnlly, Virgil, and 

30 Horace. 

185. The Knowledge of Virtue, all along from the 

beginning, in all the Instances he is capable of, 

being taught him more by Practice than Rules ; 

and the Love of Reputation, instead of satisfying his Appe- 

35 tite, being made habitual in him, I know not whether he 
should read any other Discourses of Morality but what he 
finds in the Bible ; or have any System of Ethicks put into 
his Hand till he can read Tully s Offices not as a School- 
Boy to learn Latin, but as one that would be informed in 

40 the Principles and Precepts of Virtue for the Conduct of 
his Life. 

i86, 187] Gentleman s Study of Law. 161 

1 86. When he has pretty well digested Tullfs Offices, 
and added to it, Puifcndorf de Officio Hominis , 

. . J . " . . Civil-Law. 

o? Livis, it may be seasonable to set him upon 
Grotius de Jure Belli 6 Paris, or, which perhaps is the 
better of the two, Puffendorf de Jure naturali 6 Gentium ; 5 
wherein he will be instructed in the natural Rights of Men, 
and the Original and Foundations of Society, and the 
Duties resulting from thence. This general Part of Civil- 
Law and History, are Studies which a Gentleman should 
not barely touch at, but constantly dwell upon, and never 10 
have done with. A virtuous and well-behaved young Man, 
that is well-versed in the general Part of the Civil- Law 
(which concerns not the Chicane of private Cases, but the 
Affairs and Intercourse of civilized Nations in general, 
grounded upon Principles of Reason) understands Latin 15 
well, and can write a good Hand, one may turn loose into 
the World with great Assurance that he will find Employ 
ment and Esteem every where. 

187. It would be strange to suppose an English 
Gentleman should be ignorant of the Law of 20 

his Country. This, whatever Station he is in, 
is so requisite, that from a Justice of the Peace to a 
Minister of State I know no Place he can well fill with 
out it. I do not mean the chicane or wrangling and 
captious Part of the Law: A Gentleman, whose Business 25 
is to seek the true Measures of Right and Wrong, and 
not the Arts how to avoid doing the one, and secure him 
self in doing the other, ought to be as far from such a 
Study of the Law, as he is concerned diligently to apply 
himself to that wherein he may be serviceable to his 30 
Country. And to that Purpose, I think the right Way for 
a Gentleman to study our Law, which he does not design 
for his Calling, is to take a View of our English Constitu 
tion and Government in the antient Books of the Common- 
Law, and some more modern Writers, who out of them 35 
have given an Account of this Government. And having 
got a true Idea of that, then to read our History, and with 
it join in every King s Reign the Laws then made. This 
will give an Insight into the Reason of our Statutes, and 
shew the true Ground upon which they came to be made, 40 
and what Weight they ought to have. 

Q. II 

162 Rhetoric & Logic. No Disputations. [ 188, 189 

1 88. Rhetorick and Logick being the Arts that in the 
ordinary Method usually follow immediately 
^Las-Mi 1 a ft er Grammar, it may perhaps be wondered 
that I have said so little of them. The Reason 
5 is, because of the little Advantage young People receive by 
them : For I have seldom or never observed any one to get 
the Skill of Reasoning well, or speaking handsomely, by 
studying those Rules which pretend to teach it : And there 
fore I would have a young Gentleman take a View of them 

10 in the shortest Systems could be found, without dwelling 
long on the Contemplation and Study of those Formalities. 
Right Reasoning is founded on something else than the 
Predicaments and Predicables, and does not consist in talk 
ing in Mode and Figure it self. But tis beside my present 

15 Business to enlarge upon this Speculation. To come there 
fore to what we have in hand ; if you would have your Son 
reason well, let him read Chillingwo rth ; and if you would 
have him speak well, let him be conversant in Tully, to give 
him the true Idea of Eloquence ; and let him read those 

20 Things that are well writ in English, to perfect his Style in 
the Purity of our Language. 

189. If the Use and End of right Reasoning, be to 
have right Notions and a right Judgment of Things, to 
distinguish betwixt Truth and Falshood, Right and Wrong, 

25 and to act accordingly ; be sure not to let your Son be bred 
up in the Art and Formality of disputing, either practising 
it himself, or admiring it in others ; unless instead of an 
able Man, you desire to have him an insignificant Wrangler, 
Opiniator in Discourse, and priding himself in contradicting 

30 others ; or, which is worse, questioning every Thing, and 
thinking there is no such Thing as Truth to be sought, but 
only Victory, in disputing. There cannot be any thing so 
disingenuous, so misbecoming a Gentleman or any one 
who pretends to be a rational Creature, as not to yield to 

35 plain Reason and the Conviction of clear Arguments. Is 
there any thing more inconsistent with Civil Conversation, 
and the End of all Debate, than not to take an Answer, 
though never so full and satisfactory, but still to go on with 
the Dispute as long as equivocal Sounds can furnish (a 

40 medius terminus] a Term to wrangle with on the one Side, 
or a Distinction on the other ; whether pertinent or imper- 

189] Against School-Rhetoric. 163 

tinent, Sense or Nonsence, agreeing with or contrary to 
what he had said before, it matters not. For this, in short, 
is the Way and Perfection of logical Disputes, that the 
Opponent never takes any Answer, nor the Respondent 
ever yields to any Argument. This neither of them must 5 
do, whatever becomes of Truth or Knowledge, unless he 
will pass for a poor baffled Wretch, and lie under the Dis 
grace of not being able to maintain whatever he has once 
affirm d, which is the great Aim and Glory in disputing. 
Truth is to be found and supported by a mature and due 10 
Consideration of Things themselves, and not by artificial 
Terms and Ways of arguing : These lead not Men so much 
into the Discovery of Truth, as into a captious and falla 
cious Use of doubtful Words, which is the most useless and 
most offensive Way of talking, and such as least suits a 15 
Gentleman or a Lover of Truth of any thing in the World. 

There can scarce be a greater Defect in a Gentleman 
than not to express himself well either in Writing or Speak 
ing. But yet I think I may ask my Reader, whether he 
doth not know a great many, who live upon their Estates, 20 
and so with the Name should have the Qualities of Gentle 
men, who cannot so much as tell a Story as they should, 
much less speak clearly and persuasively in any Business. 
This I think not to be so much their Fault, as the Fault of 
their Education ; for I must, without Partiality, do my 25 
Countrymen this Right, that where they apply themselves, 
I see none of their Neighbours outgo them. They have 
been taught Rhetorick, but yet never taught how to express 
themselves handsomely with their Tongues or Pens in the 
Language they are always to use ; as if the Names of the 30 
Figures that embellish d the Discourses of those who 
understood the Art of Speaking, were the very Art and 
Skill of Speaking well. This, as all other Things of Prac 
tice, is to be learn d, not by a few or a great many Rules 
given, but by Exercise and Application according to good 35 
Rules, or rather Patterns, till Habits are got, and a Facility 
of doing it well. 

Agreeable hereunto, perhaps it might not be amiss to 
make Children, as soon as they are capable of Sf u 
it, often to tell a Story of any Thing they know ; 40 

and to correct at first the most remarkable Fault they are 

II 2 

164 Exercises in Speaking and Writing. [ 189 

guilty of in their Way of putting it together. When that 
Fault is cured, then to shew them the next, and so on, till 
one after another, all, at least the gross ones, are mended. 
When they can tell Tales pretty well, then it may be the 
5 Time to make them write them. The Fables of &sop, the 
only Book almost that I know fit for Children, may afford 
them Matter for this Exercise of writing English, as well as 
for reading and translating, to enter them in the Latin 
Tongue. When they have got past the Faults of Grammar, 

10 and can join in a continued coherent Discourse the several 
Parts of a Story, without bald and unhandsome Forms of 
Transition (as is usual) often repeated, he that desires to 
perfect them yet farther in this, which is the first Step to 
speaking well and needs no Invention, may have Recourse 

15 to Tiilly, and by putting in Practice those Rules which that 
Master of Eloquence gives in his first Book de Inventione, 
20, make them know wherein the Skill and Graces of an 
handsome Narrative, according to the several Subjects and 
Designs of it, lie. Of each of which Rules fit Examples 

20 may be found out, and therein they may be shewn how 
others have practised them. The antient Classick Authors 
afford Plenty of such Examples, which they should be made 
not only to translate, but have set before them as Patterns 
for their daily Imitation. 

25 When they understand how to write English with due 
Connexion, Propriety, and Order, and are pretty well 
Masters of a tolerable narrative Style, they may be advanced 
to writing of Letters ; wherein they should not be put upon 
any Strains of Wit or Compliment, but taught to express 

30 their own plain easy Sense, without any Incoherence, Con 
fusion or Roughness. And when they are perfect in this, 
they may, to raise their Thoughts, have set before them the 
Example of Voitures, for the Entertainment of their Friends 
at a Distance, with Letters of Compliment, Mirth, Raillery 

35 or Diversion; and Tu//y s Epistles, as the best Pattern 

whether for Business or Conversation. The writing of 

Letters has so much to do in all the Occurrences of human 

Life, that no Gentleman can avoid shewing 

Letters * 

himself in this kind of Writing. Occasions will 

40 daily force him to make this Use of his Pen, which, besides 

the Consequences that, in his Affairs, his well or ill mana- 

189] Neglect of the Mother Tongue. 165 

ging of it often draws after it, always lays him open to a 
severer Examination of his Breeding, Sense, and Abilities, 
than oral Discourses; whose transient Faults dying for 
the most Part with the Sound that gives them Life, and so 
not subject to a strict Review, more easily escape Obser- 5 
vation and Censure. 

Had the Methods of Education been directed to their 
right End, one would have thought this so necessary a Part 
could not have been neglected whilst Themes and Verses 
in Latin, of no use at all, were so constantly every where 10 
pressed, to the racking of Childrens Inventions beyond 
their Strength and hindering their chearful Progress in 
learning the Tongues by unnatural Difficulties. But Cus 
tom has so ordain d it, and who dares disobey ? And would 
it not be very unreasonable to require of a learned Country 15 
School-Master (who has all the Tropes and Figures in 
farnafy s Rhetorick at his Fingers Ends) to teach his 
Scholar to express himself handsomely in English, when it 
appears to be so little his Business or Thought, that the 
Boy s Mother (despised, tis like, as illiterate for not having 20 
read a System of Logick and Rhetorick] outdoes him in it ? 

To write and speak correctly gives a Grace and gains a 
favourable Attention to what one has to say : And since tis 
English that an English Gentleman will have constant use 
of, that is the Language he should chiefly cultivate, and 25 
wherein most Care should be taken to polish and perfect 
his Style. To speak or write better Latin than English, 
may make a Man be talk d of, but he would find it more to 
his Purpose to express himself well in his own Tongue, 
that he uses every Moment, than to have the vain Com- 30 
mendation of others for a very insignificant Quality. This 
I find universally neglected, and no Care taken any where 
to improve young Men in their own Language, that they 
may throughly understand and be Masters of it. If any 
one among us have a Facility or Purity more than ordinary 35 
in his Mother Tongue, it is owing to Chance, or his Genius, 
or any thing rather than to his Education or any Care of 
his Teacher. To mind what English his Pupil speaks or 
writes, is below the Dignity of one bred up amongst Greek 
and Latin, though he have but little of them himself. 40 
These are the learned Languages fit only for learned Men 

166 Foreign Examples. Natural Science. [ 189, 190 

to meddle with and teach ; English is the Language of the 
illiterate Vulgar : Tho yet we see the Polity of some of our 
Neighbours hath not thought it beneath the publick Care 
to promote and reward the Improvement of their own 
5 Language. Polishing and enriching their Tongue is no 
small Business amongst them; it hath Colleges and Stipends 
appointed it, and there is raised amongst them a great 
Ambition and Emulation of writing correctly : And we see 
what they are come to by it, and how far they have spread 

10 one of the worst Languages possibly in this Part of the 
World, if we look upon it as it was in some few Reigns 
backwards, whatever it be now. The great Men among 
the Romans were daily exercising themselves in their own 
Language ; and we find yet upon Record the Names of 

15 Orators, who taught some of their Emperors Latin, though 
it were their Mother Tongue. 

Tis plain the Greeks were yet more nice in theirs. All 
other Speech was barbarous to them but their own, and no 
foreign Language appears to have been studied or valued 

20 amongst that learned and acute People ; tho it be past 
doubt that they borrowed their Learning and Philosophy 
from abroad. 

I am not here speaking against Greek and Latin; I 
think they ought to be studied, and the Latin at least 

25 understood well by every Gentleman. But whatever foreign 
Languages a young Man meddles with (and the more he 
knows the better) that which he should critically study, and 
labour to get a Facility, Clearness and Elegancy to express 
himself in, should be his own; and to this Purpose he 

30 should daily be exercised in it. 

190. Natural Philosophy, as a speculative Science, I 

imagine we have none, and perhaps I may 

Wiihsophy. think I have Reason to say we never shall be 

able to make a Science of it. The Works of 

35 Nature are contrived by a Wisdom, and operate by Ways 
too far surpassing our Faculties to discover or Capacities 
to conceive, for us ever to be able to reduce them into a 
Science. Natural Philosopliy being the Knowledge of the 
Principles, Properties and Operations of Things as they are 

40 in themselves, I imagine there are two Parts of it, one 
comprehending Spirits, with their Nature and Qualities, 

igo, 191] Spirits and Bodies. Study of Bible. 167 

and the other Bodies. The first of these is usually referred 
to Metaphy sicks : But under what Title soever the Considera 
tion of Spirits comes, I think it ought to go before the 
Study of Matter and Body, not as a Science that can be 
methodized into a System, and treated of upon Principles 5 
of Knowledge; but as an Enlargement of our Minds 
towards a truer and fuller Comprehension of the intellectual 
World to which we are led both by Reason and Revelation. 
And since the clearest and largest Discoveries we have of 
other Spirits, besides God and our own Souls, is imparted 10 
to us from Heaven by Revelation, I think the Information 
that at least young People should have of them, should be 
taken from that Revelation. To this Purpose, I conclude, 
it would be well, if there were made a good History of the 
Bible, for young People to read; wherein if every Thing 15 
that is fit to be put into it, were laid down in its due Order 
of Time, and several Things omitted which are suited only 
to riper Age, that Confusion which is usually produced by 
promiscuous reading of the Scripture, as it lies now bound 
up in our Bibles, would be avoided. And also this other 20 
Good obtained, that by reading of it constantly, there would 
be instilled into the Minds of Children a Notion and Belief 
of Spirits, they having so much to do in all the Transactions 
of that History, which will be a good Preparation to the 
Study of Bodies. For without the Notion and Allowance 25 
of Spirit, our Philosophy will be lame and defective in one 
main Part of it, when it leaves out the Contemplation of 
the most excellent and powerful Part of the Creation. 

191. Of this History of the Bible, I think too it would 
be well if there were a short and plain Epitome made, 30 
containing the chief and most material Heads, for Children 
to be conversant in as soon as they can read. This, though 
it will lead them early into some Notion of Spirits, yet it is 
not contrary to what I said above, That I would not have 
Children troubled, whilst young, with Notions of Spirits ;$$ 
whereby my Meaning was, That I think it inconvenient that 
their yet tender Minds should receive early Impressions of 
Goblins, Spectres, and Apparitions, wherewith their Maids 
and those about them are apt to fright them into a Com 
pliance with their Orders, which often proves a great Incon- 40 
venience to them all their Lives after, by subjecting their 

:68 Danger of Materialism. [ 191, 192 

Minds to Frights, fearful Apprehensions, Weakness and 
Superstition ; which when coming abroad into the World 
and Conversation they grow weary and ashamed of, it not 
seldom happens, that to make, as they think, a thorough 
5 Cure, and ease themselves of a Load which has sat so heavy 
on them, they throw away the Thoughts of all Spirits 
together, and so run into the other, but worse, extream. 

192. The Reason why I would have this premised to 
the Study of Bodies, and the Doctrine of the Scriptures well 

10 imbibed before young Men be entered in Natural Philo 
sophy, is, because Matter, being a thing that all our Senses 
are constantly conversant with, it is so apt to possess the 
Mind, and exclude all other Beings but Matter, that Preju 
dice, grounded on such Principles, often leaves no room 

15 for the Admittance of Spirits, or the allowing any such 
Things as immaterial Beings in rerum natura ; when yet it 
is evident that by mere Matter and Motion none of the 
great Phcenomena of Nature can be resolved, to instance 
but in that common one of Gravity, which I think impos- 

20 sible to be explained by any natural Operation of Matter, 
or any other Law of Motion, but the positive Will of a 
superior Being so ordering it. And therefore since the 
Deluge cannot be well explained without admitting some 
thing out of the ordinary Course of Nature, I propose it to 

25 be considered whether God s altering the Centre of Gravity 
in the Earth for a Time (a Thing as intelligible as Gravity 
it self, which perhaps a little Variation of Causes unknown 
to us would produce) will not more easily account for 
Noah ?, Flood than any Hypothesis yet made use of to 

30 solve it. I hear the great Objection to this, is, that it 
would produce but a partial Deluge. But the Alteration of 
the Centre of Gravity once allowed, tis no hard Matter to 
conceive that the Divine Power might make the Centre of 
Gravity, plac d at a due Distance from the Centre of the 

35 Earth, move round it in a convenient Space of Time, whereby 
the Flood would become universal, and, as I think, answer 
all the Phenomena of the Deluge as delivered by Moses, 
at an easier Rate than those many hard Suppositions that 
are made use of to explain it. But this is not a Place for 

40 that Argument, which is here only mentioned by the bye, 
to shew the Necessity of having Recourse to something 

192, 193] Systems of Natural Philosophy. 169 

beyond bare Matter and its Motion in the Explication of 
Nature ; to which the Notions of Spirits and their Power, 
as delivered in the Bible, where so much is attributed to 
their Operation, may be a fit Preparative, reserving to a 
fitter Opportunity a fuller Explication of this Hypothesis, 5 
and the Application of it to all the Parts of the Deluge, and 
any Difficulties can be supposed in the History of the 
Flood, as recorded in the Scripture. 

193. But to return to the Study of Natural Philo 
sophy. Tho the World be full of Systems of it, yet I 10 
cannot say, I know any one which can be taught a young 
Man as a Science wherein he may be sure to find Truth 
and Certainty, which is what all Sciences give an Expec 
tation of. I do not hence conclude, that none of them are 
to be read. It is necessary for a Gentleman in this learned 15 
Age to look into some of them to fit himself for Conver 
sation : But whether that of Des Cartes be put into his 
Hands, as that which is most in Fashion, or it be thought 
fit to give him a short View of that and several others also, 
I think the Systems of Natural Philosophy that have ob- 20 
tained in this Part of the World, are to be read more to 
know the Hypotheses, and to understand the Terms and 
Ways of talking of the several Sects, than with Hopes to 
gain thereby a comprehensive, scientifical and satisfactory 
Knowledge of the Works of Nature. Only this may be 25 
said, that the modern Corpuscularians talk in most Things 
more intelligibly than the Peripat (ticks, who possessed the 
Schools immediately before them. He that would look 
further back, and acquaint himself with the several Opinions 
of the Antients, may consult Dr. CwhoortKs Intellectual 30 
System, wherein that very learned Author hath with such 
Accurateness and Judgment collected and explained the 
Opinions of the Greek Philosophers, that what Principles 
they built on, and what were the chief Hypotheses that 
divided them, is better to be seen in him than any where 35 
else that I know. But I would not deter any one from the 
Study of Nature because all the Knowledge we have or 
possibly can have of it cannot be brought into a Science. 
There are very many Things in it that are convenient and 
necessary to be known to a Gentleman ; and a great many 40 
other that will abundantly reward the Pains of the Curious 

170 Boyle. Newton. [ 193 195 

with Delight and Advantage. But these, I think, are rather 
to be found amongst such Writers as have employed them 
selves in making rational Experiments and Observations 
than in starting barely speculative Systems. Such Writings 
5 therefore, as many of Mr. Boyle 1 ?, are, with others that have 
writ of Husbandry, Planting, Gardening, and the like, may 
be fit for a Gentleman, when he has a little acquainted him 
self with some of the Systems of the Natural Philosophy 
in Fashion. 

TO 194. Though the Systems of Phy sicks that I have met 
with, afford little Encouragement to look for Certainty or 
Science in any Treatise which shall pretend to give us a 
Body of Natural Philosophy from the first Principles of 
Bodies in general, yet the incomparable Mr. Newton has 

15 shewn, how far Mathematicks applied to some Parts of 
Nature may, upon Principles that Matter of Fact justify, 
carry us in the Knowledge of some, as I may so call them, 
particular Provinces of the incomprehensible Universe. And 
if others could give us so good and clear an Account of 

20 other Parts of Nature, as he has of this our Planetary 
World, and the most considerable Phenomena observable 
in it, in his admirable Book, Philosophiae naturalis Principia 
Mathcmatica, we might in Time hope to be furnished with 
more true and certain Knowledge in several Parts of this 

25 stupendous Machine, than hitherto we could have expected. 
And though there are very few that have Mathematicks 
enough to understand his Demonstrations, yet the most 
accurate Mathematicians who have examin d them allowing 
them to be such, his Book will deserve to be read, and give 

30 no small Light and Pleasure to those, who, willing to under 
stand the Motions, Properties, and Operations of the great 
Masses of Matter, in this our solar System, will but carefully 
mind his Conclusions, which may be depended on as Propo 
sitions well proved. 

35 I 95- Phis is, in short, what I have thought concerning 

a young Gentleman s Studies ; wherein it will 

possibly be wonder d that I should omit Greek, 

since amongst the Grecians is to be found the Original as 

it were, and Foundation of all that Learning which we have 

40 in this Part of the World. I grant it so ; and will add, 
| That no Man can pass for a Scholar that is ignorant of the 

195] No Greek. La Bruyere for Languages. 171 

Greek Tongue. But I am not here considering the Edu-\ 
cation of a profess d Scholar, but of a Gentleman, to whom * 
Latin and French, as the World now goes, is by every one 
acknowledg d to be necessary. When he comes to. be a Man, 
if he has a mind to carry his Studies farther, and look into 
the Greek Learning, he will then easily get that Tongue 
himself: And if he has not that Inclination, his learning 
of it under a Tutor will be but lost Labour, and much of 
his Time and Pains spent in that which will be neglected 
and thrown away as soon as he is at Liberty. For how 10 
many are there of an hundred, even amongst Scholars them 
selves, who retain the Greek they carried from School; or 
ever improve it to a familiar reading and perfect under 
standing of Greek Authors ? 

To conclude this Part, which concerns a young Gentle- 15 
man s Studies, his Tutor should remember, that his Business 
is not so much to teach him all that is knowable, as to raise 
in him a Love and Esteem of Knowledge ; and to put him 
in the right Way of knowing and improving himself when 
he has a Mind to it. 20 

The Thoughts of a judicious Author on the Subject of 
Languages, I shall here give the Reader, as near as I can, 
in his own Way of expressing them : He says, * " One can 
scarce burden Children too much with the La B ;> 
Knowledge of Languages. They are useful Moeursdusie- 25 
to Men of all Conditions, and they equally cle > p - S77 > 66z - 
open them the Entrance, either to the most profound, or 
the more easy and entertaining Parts of Learning. If this 
irksome Study be put off to a little more advanced Age, 
young Men either have not Resolution enough to apply it 30 
out of Choice or Steadiness to carry it on. And if any 
one has the Gift of Perseverance, it is not without the 
Inconvenience of spending that Time upon Languages, 
which is destined to other Uses: And he confines to the 
Study of Words that Age of his Life that is above it, and 35 
requires Things ; at least it is the losing the best and 
beautifullest Season of one s Life. This large Foundation 
of Languages cannot be well laid but when every thing 
makes an easy and deep Impression on the Mind ; when 
the Memory is fresh, ready, and tenacious ; when the 40 
Head and Heart are as yet free from Cares, Passions, 

172 Choice of Tongues. Study Originals. [195 

" and Designs ; and those on whom the Child depends 
" have Authority enough to keep him close to a long con- 
" tinned Application. I am persuaded that the small num- 
" ber of truly Learned, and the Multitude of superficial 
5 " Pretenders, is owing to the neglect of this." 

I think every Body will agree with this observing Gentle 
man, that Languages are the proper Study of our first Years. 
But tis to be consider d by the Parents and Tutors, what 
Tongues tis fit the Child should learn. For it must be 

10 confessed, that it is fruitless Pains and loss of Time, to 
learn a Language which in the Course of Life that he is 
designed to, he is never like to make use of, or which one 
may guess by his Temper he will wholly neglect and lose 
again, as soon as an Approach to Manhood, setting him 

15 free from a Governor, shall put him into the Hands of his 
own Inclination, which is no.t likely to allot any of his Time 
to the cultivating the learned Tongues, or dispose him to 
mind any other Language but what daily Use or some 
particular Necessity shall force upon him. 

20 But yet, for the sake of those who are designed to be 
Scholars, I will add what the same Author subjoins to make 
good his foregoing Remark. It will deserve to be con 
sidered by all who desire to be truly learned, and therefore 
may be a fit Rule for Tutors to inculcate and leave with 

25 their Pupils to guide their future Studies. 

"The Study, says he, of the original Text can never be 
" sufficiently recommended. Tis the shortest, surest, and 
" most agreeable way to all sorts of Learning. Draw from 
" the Spring-head, and take not things at second Hand. 

30 " Let the Writings of the great Masters be never laid aside, 
" dwell upon them, settle them in your Mind, and cite 
"them upon occasion; make it your Business throughly to 
" understand them in their full Extent and all their Cir- 
" cumstances : Acquaint your self fully with the Principles 

35 " of original Authors ; bring them to a Consistency, and 
" then do you your self make your Deductions. In this 
" State were the first Commentators, and do not you rest 
" till you bring yourself to the same. Content not yourself 
" with those borrowed Lights, nor guide yourself by their 

40 " Views but where your own fails you and leaves you in 
" the dark. Their Explications are not your s, and will give 

195] Method in Study. 173 

" you the slip. On the contrary, your own Observations are 
" the Product of your own Mind, where they will abide and 
" be ready at hand upon all Occasions in Converse, Con- 
" sultation, and Dispute. Lose not the Pleasure it is to see 
" that you are not stopp d in your reading but by Diffi- 5 
" culties that are invincible ; where the Commentators and 
" Scholiasts themselves are at a stand and have nothing to 
" say. Those copious Expositors of other Places, who with 
" a vain and pompous Overflow of Learning poured out 
" on Passages plain and easy in themselves, are very free of 10 
" their Words and Pains, where there is no need. Con- 
" vince your self fully by this ordering your Studies, that 
" tis nothing but Men s Laziness which hath encouraged 
" Pedantry to cram rather than enrich Libraries, and to 
"bury good Authors under Heaps of Notes and Com- 15 
" mentaries, und you will perceive that Sloth herein hath 
" acted against itself and its own Interest by multiplying 
" Reading and Enquiries, and encreasing the Pains it en- 
" deavoured to avoid." 

This, tho it may seem to concern none but direct 20 
Scholars, is of so great moment for the right Method 
ordering of their Education and Studies, that I 
hope I shall not be blamed for inserting of it here ; especially 
if it be considered, that it may be of use to Gentlemen too, 
when at any time they have a mind to go deeper than the 25 
Surface, and get to themselves a solid, satisfactory, and 
masterly Insight in any Part of Learning. 

Order and Constancy are said to make the great Dif 
ference between one Man and another: This I am sure, 
nothing so much clears a Learner s Way, helps him so much 30 
on in it, and makes him go so easy and so far in any Enquiry, 
as a good Method. His Governor should take Pains to make 
him sensible of this, accustom him to Order, and teach him 
Method in all the Applications of his Thoughts ; shew him 
wherein it lies, and the Advantages of it ; acquaint him with 35 
the several sorts of it, either from General to Particulars, 
or from Particulars to what is more general ; exercise him 
in both of them, and make him see in what Cases each 
different Method is most proper, and to what Ends it best 
serves. 40 

In History the Order of Time should govern, in Philo- 

174 Known to unknown. Dancing. Music. [195 7 

sophical Enquiries that of Nature, which in all Progression 

is to go from the Place one is then in, to that which joins 

and lies next to it ; and so it is in the Mind, from the 

Knowledge it stands possessed of already, to that which 

5 lies next, and is coherent to it, and so on to what it aims 

at, by the simplest and most uncompounded Parts it can 

divide the Matter into. To this Purpose, it will be of great 

Use to his Pupil to accustom him to distinguish well, that 

is, to have distinct Notions, whereever the Mind can find 

10 any real Difference; but as carefully to avoid Distinctions 

in Terms, where he has not distinct and different clear Ideas. 

196. Besides what is to be had from Study and 

Books, there are other Accomplishments necessary for a 

Gentleman, to be got by Exercise, and to which Time is 

15 to be allowed, and for which Masters must be had. 

Dancing being that which gives graceful Motions all 

the Life, and above all things Manliness, and 

:t " s a becoming Confidence to young Children, I 

think it cannot be learned too early, after they are once 

20 of an Age and Strength capable of it. But you must be 

sure to have a good Master, that knows, and can teach, 

what is graceful and becoming, and what gives a Freedom 

and Easiness to all the Motions of the Body. One that 

teaches not this, is worse than none at all : Natural Un- 

25 fashionableness being much better than apish affected Pos 

tures ; and I think it much more passable, to put off the 

Hat and make a Leg like an honest Country Gentleman 

than like an ill-fashioned Dancing-Master. For as for the 

jigging Part, and the Figures of Dances, I count that 

30 little or nothing, farther than as it tends to perfect graceful 


197. Mustek is thought to have some Affinity with 
Dancing, and a good Hand upon some Instru 
ments is by many People mightily valued. But it 


wastes so much of a young Man s Time to gain but a mode 
rate Skill in it ; and engages often in such odd Company, that 
many think it much better spared : And I have amongst Men 
of Parts and Business so seldom heard any one commended 
or esteemed for having an Excellency in Mustek, that 
amongst all those things that ever came into the List of 
Accomplishments, I think I may give it the last Place. 

IQ7, i9 8 ] Recreation. Fencing. Riding. 175 

Our short Lives will not serve us for the Attainment of all 
Things ; nor can our Minds be always intent on something 
to be learned. The Weakness of our Constitutions both of 
Mind and Body, requires that we should be often unbent : 
And he that will make a good use of any Part of his Life, 5 
must allow a large Portion of it to Recreation. At least, 
this must not be denied to young People ; unless whilst 
you with too much Haste make them old, you have the 
Displeasure to set them in their Graves or a second Child 
hood sooner than you could wish. And therefore, I think, 10 
that the Time and Pains allotted to serious Improvements, 
should be employed about things of most Use and Conse 
quence, and that too in the Methods the most easy and 
short that could be at any rate obtained : And perhaps, 
as I have above said, it would be none of the least Secrets of 1 5 
Education, to make the Exercises of the Body and the Mind 
the Recreation one to another. I doubt not but that some 
thing might be done in it, by a prudent Man, that would 
well consider the Temper and Inclination of his Pupil. For 
he that is wearied either with Study or Dancing does not 20 
desire presently to go to sleep, but to do something else 
which may divert and delight him. But this must be always 
remembred, that nothing can come into the Account of 
Recreation, that is not done with Delight. 

198. Fencing, and Riding the Great Horse, are looked 25 
upon so necessary Parts of Breeding, that it would be 
thought a great Omission to neglect them ; the latter of 
the two being for the most part to be learned only in 
great Towns, is one of the best Exercises for Health, which 
is to be had in those Places of Ease and Luxury : And 30 
upon that Account makes a fit Part of a young Gentle 
man s Employment during his Abode there. And as far 
as it conduces to give a Man a firm and graceful Seat on 
Horseback, and to make him able to teach his Horse to 
stop and turn quick, and to rest on his Hanches, is of Use 35 
to a Gentleman both in Peace and War. But whether it 
be of moment enough to be made a Business of, and de 
serve to take up more of his Time than should barely for 
his Health be employed at due Intervals in some such 
vigorous Exercise, I shall leave to the Discretion of Parents 40 
and Tutors ; who will do well to remember, in all the Parts 

176 Fencing and "Wrestling. [ 198, 199 

of Education, that most Time and Application is to be 
bestowed on that which is like to be of greatest Conse 
quence and frequentest Use in the ordinary Course and 
Occurrences of that Life the young Man is designed for. 
5 199. As for Fencing, it seems to me a good Exer 
cise for Health, but dangerous to the Life: 

f cncmf*". . 

the Confidence of their Skill being apt to 
engage in Quarrels those that think they have learned to 
use their Swords. This Presumption makes them often 

10 more touchy than needs on Point of Honour and slight 
or no Provocations. Young Men, in their warm Blood, 
are forward to think they have in vain learned to fence, 
if they never shew their Skill and Courage in a Duel ; 
and they seem to have Reason. But how many sad 

15 Tragedies that Reason has been the Occasion of, the 
Tears of many a Mother can witness. A man that cannot 
fence, will be more careful to keep out of Bullies and 
Gamesters Company, and will not be half so apt to stand 
upon Punctilios, nor to give Affronts, or fiercely justify 

20 them when given, which is that which usually makes the 
Quarrel. And when a Man is in the Field, a moderate 
Skill in Fencing rather exposes him to the Sword of his 
Enemy than secures him from it. And certainly a Man 
of Courage who cannot fence at all and therefore will put 

25 all upon one Thrust and not stand parrying, has the odds 
against a moderate Fencer, especially if he has Skill in 
Wrestling. And therefore, if any Provision be to be made 
against such Accidents, and a Man be to prepare his Son for 
Duels, I had much rather mine should be a good Wrestler 

30 than an ordinary Fencer, which is the most a Gentleman 
can attain to in it, unless he will be constantly in the Fencing- 
School and every Day exercising. But since Fencing and 
Riding the Great Horse are so generally looked upon as 
necessary Qualifications in the breeding of a Gentleman, it 

35 will be hard wholly to deny any one of that Rank these 
Marks of Distinction. I shall leave it therefore to the 
Father to consider, how far the Temper of his Son and the 
Station he is like to be in, will allow or encourage him to 
comply with Fashions which, having very little to do with 

40 Civil Life, were yet formerly unknown to the most warlike 
Nations, and seem to have added little of Force or Courage 

199 202 ] Prudentia. Learn a Trade. 177 

to those who have received them; unless we will think 
martial Skill or Prowess have been improved by Duelling, 
with which Fencing came into, and with which I presume it 
will go out of the World. 

200. These are my present Thoughts concerning 5 
Learning and Accomplishments. The great Business of all 
is Virtue and Wisdom : 

Nullum numen abest si sit Prudentia. 

Teach him to get a Mastery over his Inclinations, and sub 
mit his Appetite to Reason. This being obtained, and by 10 
constant Practice settled into Habit, the hardest Part of 
the Task is over. To bring a young Man to this, I know 
nothing which so much contributes as the Love of Praise 
and Commendation, which should therefore be instilled 
into him by all Arts imaginable. Make his Mind as sensible 15 
of Credit and Shame as may be ; and when you have done 
that, you have put a Principle into him, which will influence 
his Actions when you are not by, to which the Fear of 
a little Smart of a Rod is not comparable, and which will 
be the proper Stock whereon afterwards to graff the true 20 
Principles of Morality and Religion. 

20 1. I have one thing more to add, which as soon 
as 1 mention I shall run the danger of being Trave i 
suspected to have forgot what I am about, and 
what I have above written concerning Education all tending 25 
towards a Gentleman s Calling, with which a Trade seems 
wholly inconsistent. And yet 1 cannot forbear to say, I 
would have him learn a Trade, a manual Trade ; nay, two 
or three, but one more particularly. 

202. The busy Inclination of Children being always 30 
to be directed to something that may be useful to them, 
the Advantages proposed from what they are set about 
may be considered of two Kinds: i. Where the Skill itself 
that is got by Exercise is worth the having. Thus Skill 
not only in Languages and learned Sciences, but in Painting, 35 
Turning, Gardening, tempering and working in Iron, and 
all other useful Arts is worth the having. 2. Where the 
Exercise itself, without any Consideration, is necessary or 
useful for Health. Knowledge in some things is so neces 
sary to be got by Children whilst they are young, that some 40 

Q. 12 

178 Manual Arts. Painting &c. [ 202 204 

Part of their Time is to be allotted to their Improvement 
in them, though those Employments contribute nothing 
at all to their Health. Such are Reading and Writing and 
all other sedentary Studies for the cultivating of the Mind, 
5 which unavoidably take up a great Part of Gentlemen s 
Time, quite from their Cradles. Oilier manual Arts, which 
are both got and exercised by Labour, do many of them 
by that Exercise not only increase our Dexterity and Skill, 
but contribute to our Health too, especially such as employ 

10 us in the open Air. In these, then, Health and Improve 
ment may be join d together; and of these should some 
fit ones be chosen, to be made the Recreations of one 
whose chief Business is with Books and Study. In this 
Choice the Age and inclination of the Person is to be con- 

15 sidered, and constraint always to be avoided in bringing 
him to it. For Command and Force may often create, 
but can never cure, an Aversion : And whatever any one 
is brought to by Compulsion, he will leave as soon as he 
can, and be little profited and less recreated by, whilst he 

20 is at it. 

203. That which of all others would please me best, 

. . would be a Painter, were there not an Argument 

or two against it not easy to be answered. First, 

ill Painting is one of the worst things in the World ; and 

25 to attain a tolerable Degree of Skill in it, requires too much 
of a Man s Time. If he has a natural Inclination to it, 
it will endanger the Neglect of all other more useful Studies 
to give way to that; and if he have no Inclination to it, 
all the Time, Pains and Money shall be employed in it, 

30 will be thrown away to no purpose. Another Reason 
why I am not for Painting in a Gentleman, is, because it is 
a sedentary Recreation, which more employs the Mind 
than the Body. A Gentleman s more serious Employment 
I look on to be Study; and when that demands Relaxation 

35 and Refreshment, it should be in some Exercise of the Body, 

which unbends the Thought, and confirms the Health and 

Strength. For these two Reasons I am not for Painting. 

204. In the next place, for a Country Gentleman 

I should propose one, or rather both these, viz. 

Gardening. ,_, . . * l 7 . . , , 

4 Gardening or Husbandry in general, and work 

ing in Wood, as a Carpenter, Joiner, or Turner, these being 

204 2o6] Gardening. Ancient Examples. 179 

fit and healthy Recreations for a man of Study 
or Business. For since the Mind endures 
not to be constantly employed in the same Thing or 
Way, and sedentary or studious Men should have some 
Exercise, that at the same Time might divert their Minds 5 
and employ their Bodies, I know none that could do it 
better for a Country Gentleman than these two; the one 
of them affording him Exercise when the Weather or Season 
keeps him from the other. Besides that, by being skill d 
in the one of them, he will be able to govern and teach 10 
his Gardener; by the other, contrive and make a great 
many things both of Delight and Use : Though these I 
propose not as the chief End of his Labour, but as Temp 
tations to it; diversion from his other more serious 
Thoughts and Employments by useful and healthy manual 15 
Exercise being what I chiefly aim at in it. 

205. The great Men among the Ancients understood 
very well how to reconcile manual Labour with Affairs of 
State, and thought it no lessening to their Dignity to make 
the one the Recreation to the other. That indeed which 20 
seems most generally to have employed and diverted their 
spare Hours, was Agriculture. Gideon among the Jews 
was taken from Threshing, as well as Cincinnatus amongst 
the Romans from the Plough, to command the Armies of 
their Countries against their Enemies; and tis plain their 25 
dexterous handling of the Flayl or the Plough, and being 
good Workmen with these Tools, did not hinder their Skill 
in Arms, nor make them less able in the Arts of War or 
Government. They were great Captains and Statesmen 
as well as Husbandmen. Cato Major, who had with great 30 
Reputation born all the great Offices of the Commonwealth, 
has left us an Evidence under his own Hand, how much 
he was versed in Country Affairs ; and, as I remember, 
Cyrus thought Gardening so little beneath the Dignity and 
Grandeur of a Throne, that he shew d Xenophon a large 35 
Field of Fruit-Trees all of his own planting. The Records 
of Antiquity, both among Jews and Gentiles, are full of 
Instances of this kind, if it were necessary to recommend 
useful Recreations by Examples. 

206. Nor let it be thought that I mistake, when I 40 
call these or the like Exercises of manual Arts, Diver- 

12 2 

i So Recreation in Change. Gaming. [ 206, 207 

sions or Recreations : For Recreation is not being idle (as 
every one may observe) but easing the wearied 

Recreations. T - 1 J , , J - _ . i i .1 ^i i 

Part by Change of Business : and he that thinks 
Diversion may not lie in hard and painful Labour, forgets 
5 the early Rising, hard Riding, Heat, Cold and Hunger of 
Huntsmen, which is yet known to be the constant Recrea 
tion of Men of the greatest Condition. Delving, Planting, 
Inoculating, or any the like profitable Employments, would 
be no less a Diversion than any of the idle Sports in 

10 Fashion, if Men could but be brought to delight in them, 
which Custom and Skill in a Trade will quickly bring any 
one to do. And I doubt not but there are to be found 
those, who being frequently called to Cards or any other 
Play by those they could not refuse, have been more tired 

15 with these Recreations than with any the most serious Em 
ployment of Life, though the Play has been such as they 
have naturally had no Aversion to, and with which they 
could willingly sometimes divert themselves. 

207. Play, wherein Persons of Condition, especially 

20 Ladies, waste so much of their Time, is a plain Instance to 
me that Men cannot be perfectly idle ; they must be doing 
something ; for how else could they sit so many Hours 
toiling at that which generally gives more Vexation than 
Delight to People whilst they are actually engag d in it? 

25 Tis certain, Gaming leaves no Satisfaction behind it to 
those who reflect when it is over, and it no way profits, 
either Body or Mind : As to their Estates, if it strike so 
deep as to concern them, it is a Trade then, and not a 
Recreation, wherein few that have any thing else to live 

30 on thrive : And at best, a thriving Gamester has but a 
poor Trade on t, who fills his Pockets at the Price of his 

Recreation belongs not to People who are Strangers to 
Business, and are not wasted and wearied with the Em- 

35 ployment of their Calling. The Skill should be, so to order 
their Time of Recreation, that it may relax and refresh the 
Part that has been exercised and is tired, and yet do some 
thing which besides the present Delight and Ease, may 
produce what will afterwards be profitable. It has been 

40 nothing but the Vanity and Pride of Greatness and Riches, 
that has brought unprofitable and dangerous Pastimes (as> 

207, 2o8 J No Need to kill Time. 181 

they are called) into Fashion, and persuaded People into 
a Belief, that the learning or putting their Hands to any 
thing that was useful, could not be a Diversion fit for a 
Gentleman. This has been that which has given Cards, 
Dice and Drinking so much Credit in the World : And 5 
a great many throw away their spare Hours in them, 
through the Prevalency of Custom, and want of some 
better Employment to fill up the Vacancy of Leisure, more 
than from any real Delight is to be found in them. They 
cannot bear the dead Weight of unemployed Time lying 10 
upon their Hands, nor the Uneasiness it is to do nothing 
at all : And having never learned any laudable manual Art 
wherewith to divert themselves, they have recourse to those 
foolish or ill Ways in Use, to help off their Time, which a 
rational Man, till corrupted by Custom, could find very 15 
little Pleasure in. 

208. I say not this, that I would never have a young 
Gentleman accommodate himself to the innocent Diversions 
in fashion amongst those of his Age and Condition. I am 
so far from having him austere and morose to that Degree, 20 
that I would persuade him to more than ordinary Com 
plaisance for all the Gaieties and Diversions of those he 
converses with, and be averse or testy in nothing they 
should desire of him, that might become a Gentleman and 
an honest Man. Though as to Cards and Dice, I think 25 
the safest and best way is never to learn any Play upon 
them, and so to be incapacitated for those dangerous Temp 
tations and incroaching Wasters of useful Time. But Allow 
ance being made for idle and jovial Conversation and all 
fashionable becoming Recreations ; I say, a young Man will 33 
have time enough from his serious and main Business, to 
learn almost any Trade. Tis want of Appli 
cation, and not of Leisure, that Men are not 
skilful in more Arts than one ; and an Hour in a Day, con 
stantly employed in such a way of Diversion, will carry a 35 
Man in a short Time a great deal farther than he can 
imagine : Which, if it were of no other Use but to drive 
the common, vicious, useless, and dangerous Pastimes out 
of Fashion, and to shew there was no need of them, would 
deserve to be encouraged. If Men from their Youth were 40 
weaned from that sauntrins Humour wherein some out of 

182 Other manual Arts. [ 208210 

Custom let a good Part of their Lives run uselessly away, 
without either Business or Recreation, they would find time 
enough to acquire Dexterity and Skill in hundreds of Things, 
which, though remote from their proper Callings, would not 
5 at all interfere with them. And therefore, I think, for this, 
as well as other Reasons before-mentioned, a lazy, listless 
Humour, that idly dreams away the Days, is of all others 
the least to be indulged or permitted in young People. It 
is the proper State of one sick and out of order in his 

10 Health, and is tolerable in no body else of what Age or 
Condition soever. 

209. To the Arts above-mentioned may be added 
Perfuming, Varnishing, Graving, and several Sorts of working 
in Iron, Brass, and Silver ; and if, as it happens to most 

15 young Gentlemen, that a considerable part of his Time be 
spent in a great Town, he may learn to cut, polish, and set 
precious Stones, or employ himself in grinding and polishing 
Optical Glasses. Amongst the great Variety there is of in 
genious manual Arts, twill be impossible that no one should 

20 be found to please and delight him, unless he be either idle 
or debauched, which is not to be supposed in a right way 
of Education. And since he cannot be always employ d in 
Study, Reading and Conversation, there will be many an 
Hour, besides what his Exercises will take up, which, if not 

25 spent this Way, will be spent worse. For I conclude, a 
young Man will seldom desire to sit perfectly still and idle ; 
or, if he does, tis a Fault that ought to be mended. 

210. But if his mistaken Parents, frighted with the dis 
graceful Names of MccJianick and Trade, shall have an Aver- 

30 sion to any thing of this kind in their Children ; yet there is 
one thing relating to Trade, which, when they consider, they 
will think absolutely necessary for their Sons to learn. 

Merchants Accompts, tho a Science not likely to help 
a Gentleman to get an Estate, yet possibly there 

35 M JwZte. i s not anv thing of more Use and Efficacy, to 

make him preserve the Estate he has. Tis 

seldom observed, that he who keeps an Accompt of his 

Income and Expences, and thereby has constantly under 

view the Course of his domestick Affairs, lets them run to 

40 ruin : And I doubt not but many a Man gets behind-hand 
before he is aware, or runs farther on when he is once in, 

210, 2ii] Use of keeping Accounts. 183 

for want of this Care, or the Skill to do it. I would there 
fore advise all Gentlemen to learn perfectly Merchants Ac- 
compts, and not to think it is a Skill that belongs not to 
them, because it has received its Name from, and has been 
chiefly practised by Men of Trafnck. 5 

211. When my young Master has once got the Skill 
of keeping Accounts (which is a Business of Reason more 
than Arithmetick) perhaps it will not be amiss that his 
Father from thenceforth require him to do it in all his 
Concernments. Not that I would have him set down every 10 
Pint of Wine or Play that costs him Money ; the general 
Name of Expences will serve for such things well enough : 
Nor would I have his Father look so narrowly into these 
Accompts, as to take occasion from thence to criticise on 
his Expences; he must remember that he himself was once 15 
a young Man, and not forget the Thoughts he had then, 
nor the Right his Son has to have the same, and to have 
Allowance made for them. If therefore I would have the 
young Gentleman oblig d to keep an Account, it is not at 
all to have that way a Check upon his Expences (for what 20 
the Father allows him, he ought to let him be fully Master 
of) but only, that he might be brought early into the Custom 
of doing it, and that it might be made familiar and habitual 
to him betimes, which will be so useful and necessary to be 
constantly practised the whole Course of his Life. A Noble 25 
Venetian, whose Son wallowed in the Plenty of his Father s 
Riches, finding his Son s Expences grow very high and 
extravagant, ordered his Cashier to let him have for the 
future no more Money than what he should count when he 
received it. This one would think no great Restraint to 30 
a young Gentleman s Expences ; who could freely have as 
much Money as he would tell. But yet this, to one that was 
used to nothing but the Pursuit of his Pleasures, prov d a 
very great Trouble, which at last ended in this sober and 
advantageous Reflection : If it be so much Pains to me 35 
barely to count the Money I would spend, what Labour 
and Pains did it cost my Ancestors, not only to count, but 
get it? This rational Thought, suggested by this little 
Pains impos d upon him, wrought so effectually upon his 
Mind, that it made him take up, and from that time for- 40 
wards prove a good Husband. This, at least, every Body 

1 84 Right Time for Travel? [ 211, 212 

must allow, that nothing is likelier to keep a Man within 
compass, than the having constantly before his Eyes the 
State of his Affairs in a regular Course of Aaompt. 

212. The last Part usually in Education is Travel, 

5 Travel wm cn ^ s commonly thought to finish the Work, 

and complete the Gentleman. I confess Travel 

into foreign Countries has great Advantages, but the time 

usually chosen to send young Men abroad, is, I think, of 

all other, that which renders them least capable of reaping 

10 those Advantages. Those which are propos d, as to the 
main of them, may be reduced to these two ; first, Lan 
guage, secondly, an Improvement in Wisdom and Prudence, 
by seeing Men, and conversing with People of Tempers, 
Customs and Ways of Living, different from one another, 

15 and especially from those of his Parish and Neighbourhood. 
But from sixteen to one and twenty, which is the ordinary 
Time of Travel, Men are, of all their Lives, the least suited 
to these Improvements. The first Season to get Foreign 
Languages, and form the Tongue to their true Accents, I 

20 should think, should be from seven to fourteen or sixteen, 
and then too a Tutor with them is useful and necessary, 
who may with those Languages teach them other Things. 
But to put them out of their Parents View at a great Dis 
tance under a Governor, when they think themselves to be 

25 too much Men to be governed by others, and yet have not 
Prudence and Experience enough to govern themselves, 
what is it, but to expose them to all the greatest Dangers 
of their whole Life, when they have the least Fence and 
Guard against them? Till that boiling boisterous Part of 

30 Life comes in, it may be hoped the Tutor may have some 
Authority : Neither the Stubbornness of Age, nor the Temp 
tation or Examples of others, can take him from his Tutor s 
Conduct till fifteen or sixteen : But then, when he begins 
to comfort himself with Men, and thinks himself one ; when 

35 he comes to relish and pride himself in manly Vices, and 
thinks it a shame to be any longer under the Controul and 
Conduct of another, what can be hoped from even the most 
careful and discreet Governor, when neither he has Power 
to compel, nor his Pupil a Disposition to be persuaded ; 

40 but on the contrary, has the Advice of warm Blood and 
prevailing Fashion, to hearken to the Temptations of his 

212214] Wrong Time for Travel. 185 

Companions, just as wise as himself, rather than to the 
Persuasions of his Tutor, who is now looked on as an 
Enemy to his Freedom ? And when is a Man so like to 
miscarry, as when at the same time he is both raw and 
unruly? This is the Season of all his Life that most re- 5 
quires the Eye and Authority of his Parents and Friends to 
govern it. The Flexibleness of the former Part of a Man s 
Age, not yet grown up to be headstrong, makes it more 
governable and safe ; and in the After-part, Reason and 
Foresight begin a little to take Place, and mind a Man of 10 
his Safety and Improvement. The Time therefore I should 
think the fittest for a young Gentleman to be sent abroad, 
would be, either when he is younger, under a Tutor, whom 
he might be the better for ; or when he is some Years older, 
without a Governor; when he is of Age to govern himself, 
and make Observations of what he finds in other Countries 
worthy his Notice, and that might be of Use to him after 
his Return ; and when too, being throughly acquainted 
with the Laws and Fashions, the natural and moral Advan 
tages and Defects of his own Country, he has something to to 
exchange with those abroad, from whose Conversation he 
hoped to reap any Knowledge. 

213 [Wanting]. 

214. The ordering of Travel otherwise, is that, I 
imagine, which makes so many young Gentlemen come 25 
back so little improved by it. And if they do bring home 
with them any Knowledge of the Places and People they 
have seen, it is often an Admiration of the worst and vain 
est Practices they met with abroad ; retaining a Relish and 
Memory of those Things wherein their Liberty took its 30 
first Swing, rather than of what should make them better 
and wiser after their Return. And indeed how can it be 
otherwise, going abroad at the Age they do under the Care 
of another, who is to provide their Necessaries, and make 
their Observations for them? Thus under the Shelter and 35 
Pretence of a Governor, thinking themselves excused from 
standing upon their own Legs or being accountable for 
their own Conduct, they very seldom trouble themselves 
with Enquiries or making useful Observations of their own. 
Their Thoughts run after Play and Pleasure, wherein they 40 
take it as a Lessening to be controll d ; but seldom trouble 

1 86 Gain from Travel. [ 214 216 

themselves to examine the Designs, observe the Address, 
and consider the Arts, Tempers, and Inclinations of Men 
they meet with ; that so they may know how to comport 
themselves towards them. Here he that travels with them 
5 is to screen them ; get them out when they have run them 
selves into the Briars; and in all their Miscarriages be 
answerable for them. 

215. I confess, the Knowledge of Men is so great a 
Skill, that it is not to be expected a young Man should 

10 presently be perfect in it. But yet his going abroad is to 
little purpose, if Travel does not sometimes open his Eyes, 
make him cautious and wary, and accustom him to look 
beyond the Outside, and, under the inoffensive Guard of a 
civil and obliging Carriage, keep himself free and safe in 

15 his Conversation with Strangers and all sorts of People 
without forfeiting their good Opinion. He that is sent out 
to travel at the Age, and with the Thoughts of a Man 
designing to improve himself, may get into the Conversa 
tion and Acquaintance of Persons of Condition where he 

20 comes ; which, tho a Thing of most Advantage to a Gen 
tleman that travels, yet I ask, amongst our young Men 
that go abroad under Tutors, what one is there of an hun 
dred, that ever visits any Person of Quality? Much less 
makes an Acquaintance with such, from whose Conversation 

25 he may learn what is good Breeding in that Country, and 
what is worth Observation in it ; tho from such Persons it 
is, one may learn more in one Day, than in a Year s Ram 
bling from one Inn to another. Nor indeed, is it to be 
wondered; for Men of Worth and Parts will not easily 

30 admit the Familiarity of Boys who yet need the Care of a 
Tutor; tho a young Gentleman and Stranger, appearing 
like a Man, and shewing a Desire to inform himself in the 
Customs, Manners, Laws, and Government of the Country 
he is in, will find welcome Assistance and Entertainment 

35 amongst the best and most knowing Persons every where, 
who will be ready to receive, encourage and countenance 
an ingenuous and inquisitive Foreigner. 

216. This, how true soever it be, will not I fear 
alter the Custom, which has cast the Time of Travel upon 

40 the worst Part of a Man s Life ; but for Reasons not taken 
from their Improvement. The young Lad must not be 

2i6, 217] Scope of this Treatise. 187 

ventured abroad at eight or ten, for fear of what may happen 
to the tender Child, tho he then runs ten times less Risque 
than at sixteen or eighteen. Nor must he stay at home 
till that dangerous, heady Age be over, because he must be 
back again by one and twenty, to marry and propagate. 5 
The Father cannot stay any longer for the Portion, nor the 
Mother for a new Set of Babies to play with ; and so my 
young Master, whatever comes on it, must have a Wife 
look d out for him by that Time he is of Age ; tho it would 
be no Prejudice to his Strength, his Parts, or his Issue, if it 10 
were respited for some Time, and he had leave to get, 
in Years and Knowledge, the Start a little of his Children, 
who are often found to tread too near upon the Heels of 
their Fathers, to the no great Satisfaction either of Son 
or Father. But the young Gentleman being got within 15 
View of Matrimony, tis Time to leave him to his Mistress. 

217. Tho I am now come to a Conclusion of what 
obvious Remarks have suggested to me con 
cerning Education, I would not have it thought ( 
that I look on it as a just Treatise on this Subject. There 20 
are a thousand other Things that may need Consideration ; 
especially if one should take in the various Tempers, different 
Inclinations, and particular Defaults, that are to be found in 
Children, and prescribe proper Remedies. The Variety is so 
great that it would require a Volume; nor would that reach it. 25 
Each Man s Mind has some Peculiarity, as well as his Face, 
that distinguishes him from all others ; and there are pos 
sibly scarce two Children who can be conducted by exactly 
the same Method. Besides that, I think a Prince, a Noble 
man, and an ordinary Gentleman s Son, should have 30 
different Ways of Breeding. But having had here only 
some general Views in Reference to the main End and 
Aims in Education, and those designed for a Gentleman s 
Son, whom, being then very little, I considered only as white 
Paper, or Wax, to be moulded and fashioned as one pleases; 35 
I have touched little more than those Heads which I 
judged necessary for the Breeding of a young Gentleman 
of his Condition in general ; and have now published these 
my occasional Thoughts with this Hope, that tho this be 
far from being a complete Treatise on this Subject, or such 40 

i38 Conclusion. [ 217 

as that every one may find what will just fit his Child in 
it, yet it may give some small Light to those, whose Concern 
for their dear little Ones makes them so irregularly bold, 
that they dare venture to consult their own Reason in the 
5 Education of their Children, rather than wholly to rely upon 
old Custom. 




LOCKE S plan is as follows : " The children of labouring people are 
an ordinary burden to the parish, and are usually maintained in 
idleness, so that their labour also is generally lost to the public till 
they are twelve or fourteen years old. 

The most effectual remedy for this that we are able to conceive, 
and which we therefore humbly propose, is, that, in the fore-mentioned 
new law to be enacted, it be further provided that working schools be 
set up in every parish, to which the children of all such as demand 
relief of the parish, above three and under fourteen years of age, 
whilst they live at home with their parents, and are not otherwise 
employed for their livelihood by the allowance of the overseers of the 
poor, shall be obliged to come. 

By this means the mother will be eased of a great part of her 
trouble in looking after and providing for them at home, and so be at 
the more liberty to work ; the children will be kept in much better 
order, be better provided for, and from infancy be inured to work, 
which is of no small consequence to the making of them sober and 
industrious all their lives after ; and the parish will be either eased of 
this burden or at least of the misuse in the present management of it. 
For, a great number of children giving a poor man a title to an allow 
ance from the parish, this allowance is given once a week or once a 
month to the father in money, which he not seldom spends on himself 
at the alehouse, whilst his children, for whose sake he had it, are left 
to suffer, or perish under the want of necessaries, unless the charity of 
neighbours relieve them. 

We humbly conceive that a man and his wife in health may be 
able by their ordinary labour to maintain themselves and two children. 
More than two children at one time under the age of three years will 
seldom happen in one family. If therefore all the children above three 
years old be taken off from their hands those who have never so many, 
whilst they remain themselves in health, will not need any allowance 
for them. 

\Ve do not suppose that children of three years old will be able at 
that age to get, their livelihoods at the working school, but we are sure 
that what is necessary for their relief will more effectually have that 
use if it be distributed to them in bread at that school than if it be 
given to their fathers in money. What they have at home from their 

190 Appendix A. 

parents is seldom more than bread and water, and that, many of them, 
very scantily too. If therefore care be taken that they have each of 
them their belly-full of bread daily at school, they will be in no danger 
of famishing, but, on the contrary, they will be healthier and stronger 
than those who are bred otherwise. Nor will this practice cost the 
overseers any trouble ; for a baker may be agreed with to furnish and 
bring into the school-house every day the allowance of bread necessary 
for all the scholars that are there. And to this may be also added, 
without any trouble, in cold weather, if it be thought needful, a little 
warm water-gruel ; for the same fire that warms the room may be 
made use of to boil a pot of it. 

From this method the children will not only reap the fore-men 
tioned advantages with far less charge to the parish than what is now 
done for them, but they will be also thereby the more obliged to come 
to school and apply themselves to work, because otherwise they will 
have no victuals, and also the benefit thereby both to themselves and 
the parish will daily increase ; for, the earnings of their labour at 
school every day increasing, it may reasonably be concluded that, 
computing all the earnings of a child from three to fourteen years of 
age, the nourishment and teaching of such a child during that whole 
time will cost the parish nothing ; whereas there is no child now which 
from its birth is maintained by the parish but, before the age of four 
teen, costs the parish ^"50 or 60. 

Another advantage also of bringing children thus to a working 
school is that by this means they may be obliged to come constantly to 
church every Sunday, along with their schoolmasters or dames, whereby 
they may be brought into some sense of religion ; whereas ordinarily 
now, in their idle and loose way of breeding up, they are as utter 
strangers both to religion and morality as they are to industry. 

In order therefore to the more effectual carrying on of this work to 
the advantage of this kingdom, We further humbly propose that these 
schools be generally for spinning or knitting, or some other part of the 
woollen manufacture, unless in Countries [that is, districts] where the 
place shall furnish some other materials fitter for the employment of 
such poor children ; in which places the choice of those materials for 
their employment may be left to the prudence and direction of the 
guardians of the poor of that hundred. And that the teachers in these 
schools be paid out of the poor s rate, as can be agreed. 

This, though at first setting up it may cost the parish a little, yet 
we humbly conceive (the earnings of the children abating the charge of 
their maintenance, and as much work being required of each of them 
as they are reasonably able to perform) it will quickly pay its own 
charges with an overplus. 

That, where the number of the poor children of any parish is greater 
than for them all to be employed in one school they be there divided 
into two, and the boys and girls, if thought convenient, taught and kept 
to work separately. 

That the handicraftsmen in each hundred be bound to take every 
other of their respective apprentices from amongst the boys in some 
one of the schools in the said hundred without any money ; which boys 

Working Schools. 

they may so take at what age they please, to be bound to them till the 
age of twenty-three years, that so the length of time may more than 
make amends for the usual sums that are given to handicraftsmen with 
such apprentices. 

That those also in the hundred who keep in their hands land of 
their own to the value of .25 per annum, or upwards, or who rent 
,50 per annum or upwards, may choose out of the schools of the said 
hundred what boy each of them pleases, to be his apprentice in 
husbandry on the same condition. 

That whatever boys are not by this means bound out apprentices 
before they are full fourteen shall, at the Easter meeting of the 
guardians of each hundred every year, be bound to such gentlemen, 
yeomen, or farmers within the said hundred as have the greatest 
number of acres of land in their hands, who shall be obliged to take 
them for their apprentices till the age of twenty-three, or bind them 
out at their own cost to some handicraftsmen ; provided always that no 
such gentleman, yeoman, or farmer shall be bound to have two such 
apprentices at a time. 

That grown people also (to take away their pretence of want of 
work) may come to the said working schools to learn, where work 
shall accordingly be provided for them. 

That the materials to be employed in these schools and among 
other the poor people of the parish be provided by a common stock in 
each hundred, to be raised out of a certain portion of the poor s rate 
of each parish as requisite ; which stock, we humbly conceive, need be 
raised but once ; for, if rightly managed, it will increase." (F. 13. ii. 383.) 



In Locke s works we find besides the Thoughts and the Conduct of 
the Understanding (the last a posthumous chapter for the Essay), ist, 
" Instructions for the conduct of a young Gentleman;" 2nd, "Some 
Thoughts concerning Reading and Study for a Gentleman." Besides 
these Lord King, in his Life of Locke, gives us an excellent essay, 
"Of Study," collected from Locke s Journals. Of these three the 
last only is of importance. 

In the first the young gentleman is recommended to study the Bible 
and then other books. "The knowledge of the Bible and the business 
of his own calling is enough for an ordinary man ; a gentleman ought 
to go further." Locke is also very emphatic as usual about "good 

In the Thoughts concerning Reading and Study for a Gentleman 
we have some good advice about the subject, but of course the books 
named are in a few cases only the books which are read now. " Reading 

iQ2 Appendix B. 

is for the improvement of the understanding. The improvement of the 
understanding is for two ends : ist, for our own increase of know 
ledge ; 2nd, to enable us to deliver and make out that knowledge 
to others." The gentleman s "proper calling is the service of his 
country, and so is most properly concerned in moral and political know 
ledge ; and thus the studies which more immediately belong to his 
calling are those which treat of virtues and vices, of civil society and 
the arts of government, and will take in also law and history." 

But without right reasoning true knowledge is not got by reading 
and studying. " Men of much reading are greatly learned, but may 
be little knowing." 

" The gentleman should attend to the art of speaking well, which 
consists chiefly in two things, viz. perspicuity and right reasoning." 
These Locke would have acquired not so much by rules as by 
examples, though some rules may be studied in Cicero, Quintilian, 
and others. For right reasoning " I should propose the constant 
reading of Chillingworth." 

Locke recommends the reading of travels, always a favourite study 
with him. 

"There is another use of reading which is for diversion and delight. 
Such are poetical writings, especially dramatic, if they be free from 
profaneness, obscenity, and what corrupts good manners ; for such 
pitch should not be handled. Of all the books of fiction I know none 
that equals Cervantes History of Don Quixote." 

The remarks on Study were written in France in Locke s Journal, 
and probably for his own eye only ; but it seems a pity that so excellent 
an essay was not published and generally studied. As it has never 
appeared except in the Life, 1 give it (with small omissions) here. It 
is the following : 


THE end of study is knowledge, and the end of knowledge prac 
tice or communication. Tis true, delight is commonly joined with all 
improvements of knowledge ; but when we study only for that end, 
it is to be considered rather as diversion than business, and so is to be 
reckoned among our recreations. 

The extent of knowledge or things knowable is so vast, our duration 
here so short, and the entrance by which the knowledge of things gets 
into our understanding so narrow, that the time of our whole life 
would be found too short, without the necessary allowances for childhood 
and old age (which are not capable of much improvement), for the 
refreshment of our bodies and unavoidable avocations, and in most con 
ditions for the ordinary employment of their callings, which if they 
neglect, they cannot eat nor live ; I say that the whole time of our life, 
without these necessary defalcations, is not enough to acquaint us with 
all those things, I will not say which we are capable of knowing, but 
which it would not be only convenient but very advantageous to know. 
He that will consider how many doubts and difficulties have remained in 

Of Study. 193 

the minds of the most knowing men after long and studious inquiry ; how 
much in those several provinces of knowledge they have surveyed, they 
have left undiscovered; how many other provinces of the " mundusintelli- 
gibilis, " as I may call it, they never once travelled on, will easily consent 
to the disproportionateness of our time and strength to this greatness of 
business, of knowledge taken in its full latitude, and which, if it be not 
our main business here, yet it is so necessary to it, and so interwoven 
with it, that we can make little further progress in doing, than we do in 
knowing at least to little purpose acting without understanding being 
usually at best but lost labour. 

It therefore much behoves us to improve the best we can our time 
and talent in this respect, and since we have a long journey togo t and the 
days are but short, to take the straightest and most direct road we can. 
To this purpose, it may not perhaps be amiss to decline some things that 
are likely to bewilder us, or at least lie out of our way. ist. As all that 
maze of words and phrases which have been invented and employed only 
to instruct and amuse people in the art of disputing, and will be found 
perhaps, when looked into, to have little or no meaning ; and with this 
kind of stuff the logics, physics, ethics, metaphysics, and divinity of the 
schools are thought by some to be too much filled. This I am sure, that 
where we leave distinctions without rinding a difference in things ; where 
we make variety of phrases, or think we furnish ourselves with argu 
ments without a progress in the real knowledge of things, we only fill 
our heads with empty sounds, which however thought to belong to learn 
ing and knowledge, will no more improve our understandings and 
strengthen our reason, than the noise of a jack will fill our bellies or 
strengthen our bodies : and the art to fence with those which are called 
subtleties, is of no more use than it would be to be dexterous in tying and 
untying knots in cobwebs. Words are of no value nor use, but as they 
are the signs of things ; when they stand for nothing they are less than 
cyphers, for instead of augmenting the value of those they are joined 
with, they lessen it, and make it nothing; and where they have not a 
clear distinct signification, they are like unusual or ill-made figures that 
confound our meaning. 

and. An aim and desire to know what hath been other men s 
opinions. Truth needs no recommendation, and error is not mended by 
it; and in our inquiry after knowledge, it as little concerns us what other 
men have thought, as it does one who is to go from Oxford to London, 
to know what scholars walked quietly on foot, inquiring the way and sur 
veying the country as they went, who rode post after their guide without 
minding the way he went, who were carried along muffled up in a coach 
with their company, or where one doctor lost or went out of his way, or 
where another stuck in the mire. If a traveller gets a knowledge of the 
right way, it is no matter whether he knows the infinite windings, bye- 
ways, and turnings where others have been misled ; the knowledge of 
the right secures him from the wrong, and that is his great business. 
And so methinks it is in our pilgrimage through this world; men s 
fancies have been infinite even of the learned, and the history of them 
endless: and some not knowing whither they would go, have kept going, 
though they have only moved; others have followed only their own 

Q- 13 

i94 Appendix B. 

imagination, though they meant right, which is an errant which with the 
wisest leads us through strange mazes. Interest has blinded some and 
prejudiced others, who have yet marched confidently on; and however 
out of the way, they have thought themselves most in the right. I 
do not say this to undervalue the light we receive from others, or to 
think there are not those who assist us mightily in our endeavours after 
knowledge ; perhaps without books we should be as ignorant as the 
Indians, whose minds are as ill clad as their bodies ; but I think it is an 
idle and useless thing to make it one s business to study what have been 
other men s sentiments in things where reason is only to be judge, on 
purpose to be furnished with them, and to be able to cite them on all occa 
sions. However it be esteemed a great part of learning, yet to a man 
that considers how little time he has, and how much work to do, how 
many things he is to learn, how many doubts to clear in religion, how 
many rules to establish to himself in morality, how much pains to be 
taken with himself to master his unruly desires and passions, how to 
provide himself against a thousand cases and accidents that will happen, 
and an infinite deal more both in his general and particular calling; I 
say to a man that considers this well, it will not seem much his business 
to acquaint himself designedly with the various conceits of men that are 
to be found in books even upon subjects of moment. I deny not but the 
knowing of these opinions in all their variety, contradiction, and extrava 
gancy, may serve to instruct us in the vanity and ignorance of mankind, 
and both to humble and caution us upon that consideration ; but this 
seems not reason enough to me to engage purposely in this study, and in 
our inquiries after more material points, we shall meet with enough of 
this medley to acquaint us with the weakness of man s understanding. 

3rd. Purity of language, a polished style, or exact criticism in 
foreign languages thus I think Greek and Latin may be called, as 
well as French and Italian, and to spend much time in these may 
perhaps serve to set one off in the world, and give one the reputation of 
a scholar. But if that be all, methinks it is labouring for an outside ; 
it is at best but a handsome dress of truth or falsehood that one busies 
oneself about, and makes most of those who lay out their time this way 
rather fashionable gentlemen, than wise or useful men. 

There are so many advantages of speaking one s own language well, 
and being a master in it, that let a man s calling be what it will, it 
cannot but be worth our taking some pains in it ; but it is by no means 
to have the first place in our studies : but he that makes good language 
subservient to a good life and an instrument of virtue, is doubly enabled 
to do good to others. 

When I speak against the laying out our time and study on criticisms, 
I mean such as may serve to make us great masters in Pindar and Per- 
sius, Herodotus and Tacitus ; and I must always be understood to except 
all study of languages and critical learning, that may aid us in under 
standing the Scriptures ; for they being an eternal foundation of truth, 
as immediately coming from the Fountain of Truth, whatever doth help us 
to understand their true sense, doth well deserve our pains and study. 

4th. Antiquity and history, as far as they are designed only to fur 
nish us with story and talk. For the stories of Alexander and Caesar, no 

Of Study. 195 

farther than they instruct us in the art of living well, and furnish us with 
observations of wisdom and prudence, are not one jot to be preferred to 
the history of Robin Hood, or the Seven Wise Masters. I do not deny 
but history is very useful, and very instructive of human life ; but if it 
be studied only for the reputation of being an historian, it is a very 
empty thing; and he that can tell all the particulars of Herodotus and 
Plutarch, Curtius and Livy, without making any other use of them, may 
be an ignorant man with a good memory, and with all his pains hath 
only filled his head with Christmas tales. And which is worse, the 
greatest part of history being made up of wars and conquests, and their 
style, especially the Romans , speaking of valour as the chief if not the 
only virtue, we are in danger to be misled by the general current and 
business of history, and looking on Alexander and Caesar, and such like 
heroes, as the highest instances of human greatness, because they each of 
them caused the death of several 100,000 men, and the ruin of a much 
greater number, overran a great part of the earth, and killed the inha 
bitants to possess themselves of their countries we are apt to make 
butchery and rapine the chief marks and very essence of human greatness. 
And if civil history be a great dealer of it, and to many readers thus useless, 
curious and difficult inquirings in antiquity are much more so; and the 
exact dimensions of the Colossus, or figure of the Capitol, the ceremonies 
of the Greek and Roman marriages, or who it was that first coined 
money; these, I confess, set a man well off in the world, especially 
amongst the learned, but set him very little on in his way. 

5th. Nice questions and remote useless speculations, as where the 
earthly Paradise was or what fruit it was that was forbidden where 
Lazarus s soul was whilst his body lay dead and what kind of bodies 
we shall have at the Resurrection? &c. &c. 

These things well-regulated will cut off at once a great deal of 
business from one who is setting out into a course of study ; not that all 
these are to be counted utterly useless, and lost time cast away on them. 
The four last may be each of them the full and laudable employment of 
several persons who may with great advantage make languages, history, 
or antiquity, their study. For as for words without meaning, which is 
the first head I mentioned, I cannot imagine them any way worth 
hearing or reading, much less studying ; but there is such an harmony in 
all sorts of truth and knowledge, they do all support and give light so to 
one another, that one cannot deny, but languages and criticisms, history 
and antiquity, strange opinions and odd speculations, serve often to 
clear and confirm very material and useful doctrines. My meaning 
therefore is, not that they are not to be looked into by a studious man at 
any time ; all that I contend is, that they are not to be made our chief 
aim, nor first business, and that they are always to be handled with some 
caution : for since having but a little time we have need of much care in 
the husbanding of it, these parts of knowledge ought not to have 
either the first or greatest part of our studies : and we have the more 
need of this caution, because they are much in vogue amongst men of 
letters, and carry with them a great exterior of learning, and so are a 
glittering temptation in a studious man s way, and such as is very likely 
to mislead him. 


196 Appendix B. 

But if it were fit for me to marshal the parts of knowledge, and allot 
to any one its place and precedency, thereby to direct one s studies, I 
should think it were natural to set them in this order. 

1. Heaven being our great business and interest, the knowledge 
which may direct us thither is certainly so too, so that this is without 
peradventure the study that ought to take the first and chiefest place in 
our thoughts; but wherein it consists, its parts, method, and application, 
will deserve a chapter by itself. 

2. The next thing to happiness in the other world, is a quiet pros 
perous passage through this, which requires a discreet conduct and 
management of ourselves in the several occurrences of our lives. The 
study of prudence then seems to me to deserve the second place in our 
thoughts and studies. A man may be, perhaps, a good man (which 
lives in truth and sincerity of heart towards God,) with a small portion 
of prudence, but he will never be very happy in himself, nor useful to 
others without : these two are every man s business. 

3. If those who are left by their predecessors with a plentiful for 
tune are excused from having a particular calling, in order to their sub 
sistence in this life, it is yet certain that, by the law of God, they are 
under an obligation of doing something ; which, having been judiciously 
treated by an able pen, I shall not meddle with ; but pass to those who 
have made letters their business ; and in these I think it is incumbent 
to make the proper business of their calling the third place in their 

This order being laid, it will be easy for everyone to determine with 
himself what tongues and histories are to be studied by him, and how far 
in subserviency to his general or particular calling. 

Our happiness being thus parcelled out, and being in every part of it 
very large, it is certain we should set ourselves on work without ceasing, 
did not both the parts we are made up of bid us hold. Our bodies and 
our minds are neither of them capable of continual study, and if we 
take not a just measure of our strength, in endeavouring to do a great 
deal we shall do nothing at all. 

The knowledge we acquire in this world I am apt to think extends 
not beyond the limits of this life. The beatific vision of the other life 
needs not the help of this dim twilight ; but be that as it will, I am sure 
the principal end why we are to get knowledge here, is to make use of 
it for the benefit of ourselves and others in this world ; but if by gaining 
it we destroy our health, we labour for a thing that will be useless in our 
hands, and if by harassing our bodies (though with a design to render 
ourselves more useful) we deprive ourselves of the abilities and opportu 
nities of doing that good we might have done with a meaner talent, 
which God thought sufficient for us by having denied us the strength to 
improve it to that pitch which men of stronger constitutions can attain 
to, we rob God of so much service, and our neighbour of all that help, 
which, in a state of health, with moderate knowledge, we might have 
been able to perform. He that sinks his vessel by overloading it, 
though it be with gold and silver and precious stones, will give his 
owner but an ill account of his voyage. 

It being past doubt then, that allowance is to be made for the 

Of Study. 197 

temper and strength of our bodies, and that our health is to regulate the 
measure of our studies, the great secret is to find out the proportion; the 
difficulty whereof lies in this, that it must not only be varied according 
to the constitution and strength of every individual man, but it must also 
change with the temper, vigour, and circumstances and health of every 
particular man, in the different varieties of health, or indisposition of 
body, which every thing our bodies have any commerce with is able to 
alter ; so that it is as hard to say how many hours a day a man shall 
study constantly, as to say how much meat he shall eat every day, wherein 
his own prudence, governed by the present circumstances, can only 
judge... The regular proceeding of our watch not being the fit measure 
of time, but the secret motions of a much more curious engine, our 
bodies being to limit out the portion of time in this occasion however, 
it may be so contrived that all the time may not be lost ; for the conver 
sation of an ingenious friend upon what one hath read in the morning, or 
any other profitable subject, may perhaps let into the mind as much 
improvement of knowledge, though with less prejudice to the health, as 
settled solemn poring over books, which we generally call study ; which, 
though a necessary part, yet I am sure is not the only, and perhaps not 
the best way, of improving the understanding. 

2. Great care is to be taken that our studies encroach not upon our 
sleep : this I am sure, sleep is the great balsam of life and restorative 
of nature, and studious sedentary men have more need of it than the ac 
tive and laborious, because those men s business and their bodily labours, 
though they waste their spirits, help transpiration, and carry away their 
excrements, which are the foundation of diseases ; whereas the studious 
sedentary man, employing his spirits within, equally or more wastes 
them than the other, but without the benefit of transpiration, allowing 
the matter of disease insensibly to accumulate. We are to lay by our 
books and meditations when we find either our heads or stomachs indis 
posed upon any occasion ; study at such time doing great harm to the 
body, and very little good to the mind. 

ist. As the body, so the mind also, gives laws to our studies ; I 
mean to the duration and continuance of them ; let it be never so 
capacious, never so active, it is not capable of constant labour nor total 
rest. The labour of the mind is study, or intention of thought ; and 
when we find it is weary, either in pursuing other men s thoughts as in 
reading, or tumbling or tossing its own as in meditation, it is time to 
give off and let it recover itself. Sometimes meditation gives a refresh 
ment to the weariness of reading, and vice versd ; sometimes the change 
of ground, i. e. going from one subject or science to another, rouses the 
mind, and fills it with fresh vigour; oftentimes discourse enlivens it 
when it flags, and puts an end to the weariness without stopping it one 
jot, but rather forwarding it in its journey; and sometimes it is so tired, 
that nothing but a perfect relaxation will serve the turn. All these are 
to be made use of according as everyone finds most successful in himself 
to the best husbandry of his time and thought. 

2nd. The mind has sympathies and antipathies as well as the body; 
it has a natural preference often of one study before another. It would be 
well if one had a perfect command of them, and sometimes one is to try 

198 Appendix B. 

for the mastery, to bring the mind into order and a pliant obedience ; 
but generally it is better to follow the bent and tendency of the mind 
itself, so long as it keeps within the bounds of our proper business, 
wherein there is generally latitude enough. By this means, we shall go 
not only a great deal faster, and hold out a great deal longer, but the 
discovery we shall make will be a great deal clearer, and make deeper 
impressions in our minds. The inclination of the mind is as the palate 
to the stomach ; that seldom digests well in the stomach, or adds much 
strength to the body, that nauseates the palate, and is not recommended 
by it. 

There is a kind of restiveness in almost every one s mind ; some 
times, without perceiving the cause, it will boggle and stand still, and one 
cannot get it a step forward ; and at another time it will press forward, 
and there is no holding it in. It is always good to take it when it is 
willing, and keep on whilst it goes at ease, though it be to the breach of 
some of the other rules concerning the body. But one must take care of 
trespassing on that side too often, for one that takes pleasure in study, 
flatters himself that a little now, and a little to-morrow, does no harm, 
that he feels no ill effects of an hour s sitting up insensibly undermines 
his health, and when the disease breaks out, it is seldom charged to 
these past miscarriages that laid in the provision for it. 

The subject being chosen, the body and mind being both in a temper 
fit for study, what remains but that a man betake himself to it ? These 
certainly are good preparatories, yet if there be not something else done, 
perhaps we shall not make all the profit we might. 

ist. It is a duty we owe to God as the Fountain and Author of all 
truth, who is Truth itself, and it is a duty also we owe our ownselves, if 
we will deal candidly and sincerely with our own souls, to have our 
minds constantly disposed to entertain and receive truth wheresoever we 
meet with it, or under whatsoever appearance of plain or ordinary, 
strange, new, or perhaps displeasing, it may come in our way. Truth 
is the proper object, the proper riches and furniture of the mind, and 
according as his stock of this is, so is the difference and value of one 
man above another. He that fills his head with vain notions and false 
opinions, may have his mind perhaps puffed up and seemingly much 
enlarged, but in truth it is narrow and empty ; for all that it compre 
hends, all that it contains, amounts to nothing, or less than nothing ; for 
falsehood is below ignorance, and a lie worse than nothing. 

Our first and great duty then is, to bring to our studies and to our 
inquiries after knowledge a mind covetous of truth ; that seeks after 
nothing else, and after that impartially, and embraces it, how poor, how 
contemptible, how unfashionable soever it may seem. This is that 
which all studious men profess to do, and yet it is that where I think 
very many miscarry. Who is there almost that has not opinions 
planted in him by education time out of mind, which by that means 
come to be as the municipal laws of the country, which must not be 
questioned, but are then looked on with reverence as the standards of 
right and wrong, truth and falsehood, when perhaps these so sacred 
opinions were but the oracles of the nursery, or the traditional grave 
talk of those who pretend to inform our childhood, who received them 

Of Study. 199 

from hand to hand without ever examining them ? This is the fate of 
our tender age, which being thus seasoned early, it grows by continuation 
of time, as it were, into the very constitution of the mind, which 
afterwards very difficultly receives a different tincture. When we are 
grown up, we find the world divided into bands and companies; not 
only as congregated under several politics and governments, but united 
only upon account of opinions, and in that respect, combined strictly 
one with another, and distinguished from others, especially in matters of 
religion. If birth or chance have not thrown a man young into any of 
these, which yet seldom fails to happen, choice, when he is grown up, 
certainly puts him into some or other of them ; often out of an opinion 
that that party is in the right, and sometimes because he finds it is 
not safe to stand alone, and therefore thinks it convenient to herd 
somewhere. Now in every one of these parties of men there are a 
certain number of opinions which are received and owned as the doc 
trines and tenets of that society, with the profession and practice whereof 
all who are of their communion ought to give up themselves, or else they 
will be scarce looked on as of that society, or at best, be thought but 
lukewarm brothers, or in danger to apostatize. 

It is plain, in the great difference and contrariety of opinions that are 
amongst these several parties, that there is much falsehood and abund 
ance of mistakes in most of them. Cunning in some, and ignorance 
in others, first made them keep them up ; and yet how seldom is it that 
implicit faith, fear of losing credit with the party or interest (for all these 
operate in their turns), suffers any one to question the tenet of his party ; 
but altogether in a bundle he receives, embraces, and without examining, 
he professes, and sticks to them, and measures all other opinions by 
them. Worldly interest also insinuates into several men s minds 
divers opinions, which suiting with their temporal advantage, are kindly 
received, and in time so riveted there, that it is not easy to remove 
them. By these, and perhaps other means, opinions come to be settled 
and fixed in men s minds, which, whether true or false, there they 
remain in reputation as substantial material truths, and so are seldom 
questioned or examined by those who entertain them ; and if they happen 
to be false, as in most men the greatest part must necessarily be, they 
put a man quite out of the way in the whole course of his studies ; and 
though in his reading and inquiries he flatters himself that his design is 
to inform his understanding in the real knowledge of truth, yet in effect 
it tends and reaches to nothing but the confirming of his already received 
opinions, the things he meets with in other men s writings and discoveries 
being received or neglected as they hold proportion with those anticipa 
tions which before had taken possession of his mind. 


i. This grand miscarriage in our study draws after it another of less 
consequence, which yet is very natural for bookish men to run into, 
and that is the reading of authors very intently and diligently to mind 
the arguments pro and con they use, and endeavour to lodge them safe in 
their memory, to serve them upon occasion. This, when it succeeds 
to the purpose designed (which it only does in very good memories, 
and, indeed, is rather the business of the memory than judgment), 

200 Appendix B. 

sets a man off before the world as a very knowing learned man, but 
upon trial will not be found to be so ; indeed, it may make a man 
a ready talker and disputant, but not an able man. It teaches a 
man to be a fencer ; but in the irreconcileable war between truth and 
falsehood, it seldom or never enables him to choose the right side, or 
to defend it well, being got of it. He that desires to be knowing 
indeed, that covets rather the possession of truth than the show of 
learning, that designs to improve himself in the solid substantial 
knowledge of things, ought, I think, to take another course ; i. e. to 
endeavour to get a clear and true notion of things as they are in 
themselves. This being fixed in the mind well (without trusting to 
or troubling the memory, which often fails us), always naturally sug 
gests arguments upon all occasions, either to defend the truth or con 
found error. This seems to me to be that which makes some men s 
discourses to be so clear, evident, and demonstrative, even in a few 
words ; for it is but laying before us the true nature of any thing we 
would discourse of, and our faculty of reasoning is so natural to us, that 
the clear inferences do, as it were, make themselves: we have, as it 
were, an instinctive knowledge of the truth, which is always most 
acceptable to the mind, and the mind embraces it in its native and 
naked beauty. This way also of knowledge, as it is in less danger to 
be lost, because it burdens not the memory, but is placed in the judg 
ment ; so it makes a man talk always coherently and confidently to 
himself on which side soever he is attacked, or with whatever arguments 
the same truth, by its natural light and contrariety to falsehood, still 
shows, without much ado, or any great and long deduction of words, the 
weakness and absurdity of the opposition : whereas the topical man, 
with his great stock of borrowed and collected arguments, will be found 
often to contradict himself: for the arguments of divers men being often 
founded upon different notions, and deduced from contrary principles, 
though they may be all directed to the support or confutation of some 
one opinion, do, notwithstanding, often really clash one with another. 

3. Another thing, which is of great use for the clear conception of 
truth, is, if we can bring ourselves to it, to think upon things ab 
stracted and separate from words. Words, without doubt, are the 
great and almost only way of conveyance of one man s thoughts to 
another man s understanding ; but when a man thinks, reasons, and 
discourses within himself, I see not what need he has of them. I am 
sure it is better to lay them aside, and have an immediate converse with 
the ideas of the things ; for words are, in their own nature, so doubtful 
and obscure, their signification, for the most part, so uncertain and 
undetermined, which men even designedly have in their use of them 
increased, that if in our meditations our thoughts busy themselves about 
words, and stick at the names of things, it is odds but they are misled 
or confounded. This, perhaps, at first sight may seem but an useless 
nicety, and in the practice, perhaps, it will be found more difficult than 
one would imagine ; but yet upon trial I dare say any one s experience 
will tell him it was worth while to endeavour it. He that would call to 
mind his absent friend, or preserve his memory, does it best and most 
effectually by reviving in his mind the idea of him, and contemplating 

Of Study. 201 

that; and it is but a very faint imperfect way of thinking of one s friend 
barely to remember his name, and think upon the sound he is usually 
called by. 

4. It is of great use in the pursuit of knowledge not to be too con 
fident, nor too distrustful of our own judgment, nor to believe we can 
comprehend all things nor nothing. He that distrusts his own judgment 
in every thing, and thinks his understanding not to be relied on in the 
search of truth, cuts off his own legs that he may be carried up and down 
by others, and makes himself a ridiculous dependant upon the knowledge 
of others, which can possibly be of no use to him : for I can no more 
know any thing by another man s understanding, than I can see by 
another man s eyes. So much I know, so much truth I have got ; so 
far I am in the right, as I do really know myself; whatever other men 
have it is in their possession, it belongs not to me, nor can be com 
municated to me but by making me alike knowing; it is a treasure 
that cannot be lent or made over. On the other side, he that thinks his 
understanding capable of all things, mounts upon wings of his own 
fancy, though indeed Nature never meant him any, and so venturing 
into the vast expanse of incomprehensible verities, only makes good 
the fable of Icarus, and loses himself in the abyss. We are here in 
the state of mediocrity ; finite creatures, furnished with powers and 
faculties very well fitted to some purposes, but very disproportionate 
to the vast and unlimited extent of things. 

5. It would, therefore, be of great service to us to know how far 
our faculties can reach, that so we might not go about to fathom where 
our line is too short ; to know what things are the proper objects of 
our inquiries and understanding, and where it is we ought to stop, and 
launch out no farther for fear of losing ourselves or our labour. This, 
perhaps, is an inquiry of as much difficulty as any we shall find in our 
way of knowledge, and fit to be resolved by a man when he is come to 
the end of his study, and not to be proposed to one at his setting out ; 
it being properly the result to be expected after a long and diligent 
research to determine what is knowable and what not, and not a question 
to be resolved by the guesses of one who has scarce yet acquainted him 
self with obvious truths. I shall therefore, at present, suspend the 
thoughts I have had upon this subject, which ought maturely to be 
considered of, always remembering that things infinite are too large for 
our capacity; we can have no comprehensive knowledge of them, and 
our thoughts are at a loss and confounded when they pry too curiously 
into them. The essences also of substantial beings are beyond our ken ; 
the manner also how Nature, in this great machine of the world, pro 
duces the several phenomena, and continues the species of things in a 
successi ve generation, &c., is what I think also lies out of the reach of our 
understanding. That which seems to me to be suited to the end of 
man, and lie level to his understanding, is the improvement of natural 
experiments for the conveniences of this life, and the way of ordering 
himself so as to attain happiness in the other i.e. moral philosophy, 
which, in my sense, comprehends religion too, or a man s whole duty. 

6th. For the shortening of our pains, and keeping us from incurable 
doubt and perplexity of mind, and an endless inquiry after greater 

202 Appendix B. 

certainty than is to be had, it would be very convenient in the several 
points that are to be known and studied, to consider what proofs the 
matter in hand is capable of, and not to expect other kind of evidence 
than the nature of the thing will bear. 


7th. A great help to the memory, and means to avoid confusion 
in our thoughts, is to draw out and have frequently before us a scheme 
of those sciences we employ our studies in, a map, as it were, of the 
tnundus intelligibilis. This, perhaps, will be best done by every one 
himself for his own use, as best agreeable to his own notion, though 
the nearer it comes to the nature and order of things it is still the 
better. However, it cannot be decent for me to think my crude 
draught fit to regulate another s thoughts by, especially when, perhaps, 
our studies lie different ways; though I cannot but confess to have 
received this benefit by it, that though I have changed often the subject 
I have been studying, read books by patches and accidentally, as they 
have come in my way, and observed no method nor order in my studies, 
vet making now and then some little reflection upon the order of things 
as they are, or at least I have fancied them to have [been] in themselves, 
I have avoided confusion in my thoughts: the scheme I had made 
serving like a regular chest of drawers, to lodge those things orderly, 
and in the proper places, which came to hand confusedly, and without 
any method at all. 

8th. It will be no hinderance at all to our study if we sometimes 
study ourselves, i. e. own abilities and defects. There are peculiar 
endowments and natural fitnesses, as well as defects and weaknesses, 
almost in every man s mind ; when we have considered and made 
ourselves acquainted with them, we shall not only be the better 
enabled to find out remedies for the infirmities, but we shall know 
the better how to turn ourselves to those things which we are best 
fitted to deal with, and so to apply ourselves in the course of our 
studies, as we may be able to make the greatest advantage. He 
that has a bittle and wedges put into his hand, may easily conclude 
he is ordered to cleave knotty pieces, and a plane and carving tools, 
to design handsome figures. 


I will only say this one thing concerning books, that however it has 
got the name, yet converse with books is not, in my opinion, the 
principal part of study ; there are two others that ought to be joined 
with it, each whereof contributes their share to our improvement in 
knowledge ; and those are meditation and discourse. Reading, me- 
thinks, is but collecting the rough materials, amongst which a great 
deal must be laid aside as useless. Meditation is, as it were, choosing 
and fitting the materials, framing the timbers, squaring and laying the 
stones, and raising the building ; and discourse with a friend (for 
wrangling in a dispute is of little use,) is, as it were, surveying the 
structure, walking in the rooms, and observing the symmetry and 
agreement of the parts, taking notice of the solidity or defects of the 
works, and the best way to find out and correct what is amiss; besides 

Of Study. 203 

that it helps often to discover truths, and fix them in our minds as 
much as either of the other two. 

It is time to make an end of this long and overgrown discourse. I 
shall only add one word, and then conclude ; and that is, that whereas 
in the beginning I cut off history from our study, as a useless part, as 
certainly it is where it is read only as a tale that is told ; here, on the 
other side, I recommend it to one who hath well settled in his mind 
the principles of morality, and knows how to make a judgment on the 
actions of men as one of the most useful studies he can apply himself 
to. There he shall see a picture of the world and the nature of man 
kind, and so learn to think of men as they are. There he shall see the 
rise of opinions, and find from what slight, and sometimes shameful 
occasions, some of them have taken their rise, which yet afterwards 
have had great authority, and passed almost for sacred in the world, 
and borne down all before them. There also one may learn great and 
useful instructions of prudence, and be warned against the cheats and 
rogueries of the world, with many more advantages which I shall not 
here enumerate. 


The notes followed by the initials "J. F. P." are by 
Dr J. F. Payne. 

i, p. i, 1. 17. " Nine parts of ten are "what they are. their 

Locke says also in 32, p. 20, 1. 35, " that the difference to be 
found in the manners and abilities of men is owing more to their educa 
tion than to anything else. " He is taken to task by Hallam (Lit. of 
Europe} for exaggeration in these assertions. We must remember how 
ever that Locke here uses "education" in a wide sense, and includes 
all influences from without. He has elsewhere pointed out the differ 
ence it will make to a child whether you bring him up to be a plough 
man or a courtier a difference in manners and abilities producible even 
in the same individual, though we now attribute much influence to 
heredity, which in Locke s day was not thought of. Locke expresses 
himself carelessly ; but he does not ignore, as Hallam would make him, 
the differences due to natural disposition. " God has stamped certain 
characters upon men s minds which like their shapes may perhaps be a 
little mended but can hardly be totally altered and transformed into the 
contrary." (Supra, 66, p. 40, 1. 6.) Hallam says almost the same 
thing : "In human beings there are intrinsic dissimilitudes which no 
education can essentially overcome " (Lit. of Europe, Pt. iv. c. iv. 
56) ; and in saying it he supposes he is refuting Locke. 

Perhaps Locke s meaning will be best understood by comparing with 
the text what he has said in the Conduct of the Understanding, "We 
are born with faculties and powers capable almost of anything, such at 
least as would carry us further than can easily be imagined ; but it is 
only the exercise of those powers which gives us ability and skill in 
anything, and leads us towards perfection." 

He illustrates this with reference to the body by the instances of the 
clumsy ploughman on the one hand and the fingers of the musician and 
the legs of the dancing-master, on the other. Of the feats of rope- 
dancers and tumblers he says, "All these admired motions, beyond the 
reach and almost conception of unpractised spectators, are nothing but 
the mere effects of use and industry in men whose bodies have nothing 
peculiar in them from those of the amazed lookers-on." 

He goes on: " As it is in the body, so it is in the mind : practice 
makes it -what it is ; and most even of those excellences which are looked 
on as natural endowments, will be found, when examined into more 

pp. i 2] Notes. 205 

narrowly, to be the product of exercise and to be raised to that pitch 
only by repeated actions." Even skilful raillery and the art of telling 
apposite diverting stories Locke would attribute to long-continued 
efforts begun perhaps by accident. "I do not deny," says he, 
"that natural disposition may often give the first rise to it; but that 
never carries a man far without use and exercise; and it is practice 
alone that brings the powers of the mind, as well as those of the body, 
to their perfection." Conversely he concludes that "defects and weak 
ness in men s understanding as well as other faculties come from want of 
a right use of their own minds." C. of U. iv. ad f. Education 
according to Locke consists in exercising the abilities. Hence he at 
tributes the difference in men more to this cause than any other. 

In one case out of ten Locke seems to think the natural character 
may be so strong as to hold its own against influences from without. 
I may remark that "nine parts often" means nine men in ten, and not, 
as I have said by mistake in Essays on Educational Reformers, nine 
parts of ten in every man. 

i, p. 2, I. 7. " The Clay Cottage." 

Perhaps this phrase was suggested by the then well-known lines of 
Waller : 

"The soul s dark cottage battered and decayed 
Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made." 

2, p. 2, 1. 10. "That study I have been thought more peculiarly to 
have applied myself to. " 

Locke s actual practice as a physician seems to have been confined 
to the household of Lord Shaftesbury (vide Introduction). So we find in 
his remarks the mixture of good sense and scientific knowledge with 
some eccentricities and errors which a wider experience would quickly 
have corrected. What strikes us in his views is not only their reason 
ableness, but what we may call their modernness. In this respect he 
reminds us of his friend Sydenham, the great reformer of practical 
medicine, whose merit it was to lead men back from complex and 
artificial systems resting on the assumption of precise dogmatic know 
ledge, to more simple methods in which nature was followed rather 
than coerced, (j. F. p.) 

4, p. 2, 1. 32. " Cockering and Tenderness." 

Locke here avows himself a partisan of the system of hardening, as 
opposed to that of protection, in rearing children. Each system has had 
its supporters at all times. Civilized men, noticing that more savage 
people are free from many of the diseases of what is called by the 
misleading name of artificial society, have often thought that this im 
munity may be secured by imitating the rough practices of savage life. 
But it is now known that the duration of life among savages is, on the 

2o5 Notes. [p. 2 

average, less than in civilized nations. It appears too that with the 
immunity from minor ailments and greater power of undergoing hard 
ships, there is even less power of resistance to attacks of serious 
epidemic diseases than the civilized man possesses. In short, each 
type of man, the civilized and the savage respectively, is strong against 
those evils to \vhich he is inured, weak against those which are new to 
him. But if we test their power by comparing the resistance of each 
to untried circumstances, civilization appears to have the advantage. 
It is clear then that the training of the savage, even the ideal savage of 
Rousseau, cannot be taken as a model for those living under the actual 
circumstances of our life. 

On the other hand, there are theoretical grounds for the protective 
system ; while the body is growing, it may be said, let it be nourished 
as well as possible, that it may be afterwards better able to resist ; and 
let it be shielded from all injury, since any injury may leave behind it 
some damage to the part affected ; and in a part thus damaged subse 
quent disease will be more likely to occur. For instance, let a child 
get an acute rheumatism from cold, it will most probably grow up a 
damaged individual, more prone than another to serious disease. This 
also is plausible, but takes too little account of the force of habit. 
Physical habit is no less a fact than moral habit, and what we have 
gone through once, we can, if the parts are intact, better go through 
again. Certain limitations of this principle will be pointed out here 
after. Experience has, I think, shewn the error of taking either 
principle, or any such principle, as an infallible guide. We shall do 
best, not even by the obvious expedient of aiming at the mean, but by 
judging every practice which forms a part of any system on its merits, 
experience being the final court of appeal. The real defence of the 
hardening system is that which is afterwards pointed out by Locke 
himself, namely that it prepares the body for encountering emergencies 
when the safeguards of ordinary life are wanting, not that it enables 
ordinary persons to live their ordinary life better. It is on this ground 
that Socrates (in Xenophon s Memorabilia) defends his frugal and 
austere life as fitting him for the hardships of a campaign, since, as 
he says, every citizen may be called upon to be a soldier. The great 
objection to such a system is that it weeds out sickly children, though 
it does not follow that those who are weakest in early life are after 
wards the least useful members of society ; while the vigour of those 
who survive is attributed to the system, though it would probably have 
been the same in ordinary circumstances. The only modern nation 
which furnishes us with a perfect example of hardening is the Russian, 
where children are made to undergo the severest extremes of tem 
perature, being sent out from over-heated rooms to run in the snow, 
with very insufficient clothing. The after-experience, if it may not be 
called the result, of this treatment, is well known. On the one hand, 
the Russian peasant is able to bear extremes of heat and cold which 
would be fatal to less hardy races ; and this power of endurance be 
comes in the soldier one of the chief foundations of Russian military 
strength. On the other hand, the death rate of the population is far 
higher than in any other European country, and the mortality among 

pp. 2 4] Notes. 207 

children is so great that it would elsewhere be thought positively 
appalling, (j. F. P.) 

Goldsmith, in his remarks on Locke s hardening system, has antici 
pated the latest decisions of science. He observes that "savages and 
peasants are generally not so long lived a? those who have led a more 
indolent life," and that "the more laborious the life is, the less is the 
population of the country." He sees that hardening involves the 
hardening of many children out of the world. "The number of those 
who survive those rude trials bears no proportion to those who die in 
the experiment." He ridicules Locke s belief in the omnipotence of 
habit by telling the following story of Peter the Great. Peter thought 
it would be convenient if his sailors drank sea-water, so he made an 
edict that the boys training for sea should be allowed to drink sea- 
water only. The boys died, so the habit was never established. (Gold 
smith s Essay on Education in T/ie Bee Nov. 10, 1759.) 

5, p. i, \. 36". " Tis tise alone hardens it." 

The fallacy of this argument appears to me to be this. We have no 
ground for attributing so much to the effect of custom in a single life 
time, though doubtless custom in the course of generations may produce 
these and even greater effects. We cannot therefore expect, in one 
lifetime, to undo the work of centuries. Our bodies are what they are in 
virtue of having been covered for many generations : had they been 
uncovered during that time, they would be different. Rousseau and 
many later writers have fallen into the same error of ignoring the slow 
changes produced in physical organization by the continuous action of 
custom; and in some degree, by natural selection, (j. F. p.) 

7, p. 4, 1. 5. " Cold water." 

The use of cold baths is far more common in our time than in 
Locke s, and there can be no doubt that the practice of washing the 
whole body with cold water every morning, as now practised, is a most 
valuable and healthy innovation. By this means we become hardened in 
the sense that we are far less likely to take cold. The reason also is 
clear, since we know that a cold bath exercises the regulative machinery 
of nerves and blood-vessels in the skin, by which the body is naturally 
protected against the injurious effects of cold. But for this purpose a 
momentary, and not a continued, application of cold is desirable; the 
continuous action of cold and wet to the skin is always injurious, and 
hence Locke s proposal to make children s shoes such that their feet 
should be constantly wet, must be dismissed as absurd and mischievous. 
It is hardly necessary to point out that this would be a very different 
thing from going barefoot. The latter practice is rejected by civilized 
men, chiefly on grounds of convenience and cleanliness; not necessarily 
from the fear of cold. The notion of making shoes with holes in them 
is however not wholly a caprice of Locke s. The same thing may be 
seen in the Highland brogues, which have holes to let out water; but 
this construction can only be convenient in actual wading, when the 

208 Notes. [pp. 4 6 

shoes would otherwise become, so to speak, water-logged. A far better 
maxim is that attributed to the surgeon Abernethy, Keep your head 
cool, and your feet warm." (j. F. p.) 

7) P- 5) 1- 3- " Health and Hardiness: 

The following is Locke s account of his experiment with Frank 
Masham : 

"One Thing give me leave to be importunate with you about: 
You say your Son is not very strong ; to make him strong, you must 
use him hardly, as I have directed ; but you must be sure to do it by 
very insensible Degrees, and begin an Hardship you would bring him 
to only in the Spring. This is all the Caution needs be used. I have 
an Example of it in the House I live in, where the only Son of a very 
tender Mother was almost destroy d by a too tender Keeping. He is 
now, by a contrary Usage, come to bear Wind and Weather, and Wet 
in his Feet ; and the Cough, which threaten d him under that warm 
and cautious Management, has left him, and is now no longer his 
Parents constant Apprehension as it was." Locke to W. Molyneux, 
23 Aug., 1693. 

7, p. 5, 1. 15. " How fond Mothers," c. 

I have pointed out in the Introduction, that Locke s view of life was 
one-sided from his having been brought so little under the influence 
of women. He lost his mother, as it would seem, when he was young, 
and he never had sister or wife ; so we can understand his looking to 
the father rather than the mother as the true educator. His want of 
sympathy with women is betrayed by the above absurd references to 
Seneca and Horace. In making them he must have fancied himself 
back in the Common Room at Christ Church. 

7, p. 6, 1. 2. "Sf Winifred s Well." 

About these waters see Psychrolusia, or a History of Cold Bathing, 
by Sir John Floyer, Kt., and Dr Edward Baynard, 2nd ed. 1706. 
The well, at which miracles were said to be wrought from A.D. 644, 
gave its name to a town now called Holy well in Flintshire, (j. F. P.) 

7, p. 6, 1. 5. "Miracles done by Cold Baths." 

It was only at the end of the i7th century that Englishmen first 
became aware of the benefits of cold bathing. The custom was, it 
appears, introduced from Holland and Germany, but here as in those 
countries, was first confined to the use of natural springs or wells of 
ancient reputation ; later on baths in houses were used. In both cases, 
baths such as we now use for simple cleanliness or enjoyment were 
prescribed as of medicinal use. 

Sir John Floyer in his Psychrohisia, published about ten years after 
Locke s tract, admits the practice of cold bathing had scarcely been used 
in England for 100 years. 

pp. 6, 7] Notes. 209 

Wonderful cures such as Locke speaks of may be found in abun 
dance in Floyer s book as in others. 

The great Dr Willis, a contemporary of Locke s, relates that he 
cured a young woman in a high fever when nothing else would cool her, 
by having her taken from her bed and thrown into the river, with 
proper precautions against drowning. He thus anticipated the most 
modern method of treating " hyperpyrexia " or extreme fever. But the 
therapeutic use of cold water was regarded in the ijth century, and 
rightly so, as a return to the practice of the Greek and Roman physicians. 

0. F.V.) 

9, p. 7, I. 10. "A Beau, but not a man of business. 1 

The agreement between Locke and Montaigne will be seen from the 
following quotation : " Inure him to heat and cold, to wind and sun, 
and to dangers which he ought to despise; wean him from all effeminacy 
and delicacy in clothes and lodging, eating and drinking ; accustom him 
to every thing, so that he may not be a Sir Paris (un beau gar$on), a 
Carpet-Knight, but a sinewy, hardy and vigorous young man." 
(Montaigne s Essays, Bk. I. Ch. 25, Hazlitt s Edition, i. p. 198.) 

9, p. 7, 1. 14. " The nearer they \the daughters] come to the hardships 
of their brothers" 

There is no doubt that in the physical training of girls a great im 
provement has been made, at least in this country, since Locke s time. 
But even now it cannot be too strongly insisted upon that games and 
exercises which strengthen the muscles, enlarge the chest, and assist all 
the digestive operations, are not only as beneficial to girls as to boys, 
but need to be made even more a special study in the case of the 
former, since girls do not spontaneously attend to this part of their 
education with the energy of the other sex. It should be laid down as 
a fixed principle that playgrounds and gymnasia are not only useful 
appendages to girls schools, but an absolutely essential part of the 
school machinery, (j. F. P.) 

10, p. 7, 1. 21. Drinking cold drink when they are hot." 

There is probably some ground for the very general belief that 
drinking cold water when hot is injurious ; but it is not easy to specify 
any important diseases, still less fatal ones, which can be clearly traced 
to this cause. In my own experience, I have never met with an instance 
of any serious disease thus induced, and very rarely of any even attributed 
to it. A few cases of trifling affections of the skin have been, with some 
plausibility, attributed to drinking while hot. It is well known to grooms 
that horses coats suffer by drinking cold water. It has been said that 
death from syncope or collapse may be the result, but this seems to me 
to require confirmation. The word fever was used very loosely in the 
time of Locke, but it may be taken for granted that nothing which we 
now call a fever could possibly be caused by the practice here repre 
hended, (j. F. p.) 

Q- 14 

2io Notes. [pp. 8, 9 

ii, p. 8, 1. 2. "That your son s clothes be never made strait." 

The pernicious practice of tight lacing has been so repeatedly, 
though never too strongly, condemned, that we would fain hope we had 
seen the last of it. Within the last half century there has no doubt 
been some return to the rule of reason and nature in woman s dress ; 
but the whirligig of time may bring the custom back again ; and, in 
that case, we know that not the reasonableness of either sex will avail 
against the decrees of fashion. It may be worth while to point out 
precisely what are the evils resulting from tight lacing. They differ 
a little according to the point where the greatest pressure is applied ; 
that is to say, according as the dress is what is called high-waisted or 
low-waisted. The very few cases in which I have myself been able to 
study the anatomy of the deformity thus produced belonged to "the 
latter class. In this, the first injury is done to the liver, which is 
compressed in such a way as not only to interfere with the changes 
of bulk which this organ undergoes after taking food and at other 
times, but positively to alter its shape. In the next place, the liver 
being pressed upwards, encroaches on the thorax, and the breathing 
capacity of the lungs is seriously diminished. Furthermore, the lower 
ribs being pushed in must impede the action of the heart, and prevent 
the expansion of the lower parts of the lungs, so that their breathing 
power is still further diminished. Again, the circulation through the 
liver is hindered, which must inevitably interfere with the proper action 
of all the abdominal viscera, the blood from which passes through the 
liver. In a high-waisted dress the pressure will come more im 
mediately upon the ribs. The thorax is thus compressed, and will, in 
the end, become altered in shape. The liver is not pressed upwards, 
but becomes altered in shape, possibly in the way represented in a 
figure copied in several popular manuals of health. But this particular 
deformity I have never seen. 

The evils of tight dress are seldom seen in the other sex, except in 
the case of soldiers. In them, however, the effects of the tight leathern 
stock round the neck have been pointed out by army surgeons. 
Wearing a tight waistbelt produces a peculiar mark or scar round 
the liver, which must shew an injurious amount of pressure, (j. F. P.) 

Lest any one should suppose that the advance of science had ren 
dered such warnings as the above superfluous, I copy the following 
from an advertisement which may now be seen in ladies newspapers and 
elsewhere : "The corset is most effective in reducing the figure and 
keeping the form flat, so as to enable ladies to wear the fashionable 
vetements of the day." Another corset is also recommended as reducing 
the form and keeping it flat "in accordance with the present fashion." 
So it seems there are still people by whom the right shape of the 
human frame is regarded as a matter of fashion. 

13, p. 9, 1. 13. "If I might advise, Flesh should be forborne as long as 
]ie is in coats. 1 

The question at what age children ought to begin to eat meat has 
been much debated, not to speak of the extreme opinion of vegetarians 

p- 9] 


that meat is not necessary at all. There can be no doubt, I think, that 
healthy children can do perfectly well without meat if they have a good 
supply of milk. Milk is, physiologically speaking, a more perfect food 
than meat, containing albumen, for which meat is chiefly valued, and 
many other things besides. Even when neither milk nor meat can be 
had, children may, if they have been suckled at the breast for the 
normal period, be brought up upon well-selected food of other kinds, 
but the experiment is not to be recommended. Looking at other cases 
than those of perfect health (since this we do not often meet with), it 
cannot be denied that meat is, if not necessary, still a most desirable 
part of the diet of children, after two years of age, especially in a cold 
climate, and in a race which has for many generations been accustomed 
to animal food. Moreover, in our own time and country a large part 
of childrens ailments are of the cachectic kind, that is to say, shewing 
imperfect nutrition, even when food is taken, apparently, in abundance. 
In such cases, meat is so much the most convenient, concentrated and 
efficient kind of food, that great harm would be done if any prejudice 
existed against its use, and even if it were thought that some definite 
disease, or a doctor s orders, were necessary to justify its use. Apart 
from the special principles contained in meat alone, to which the great 
chemist Liebig attached so much importance, it should be remembered 
that the precise kind of nourishment furnished by meat can only be 
obtained from other food in greater bulk, with more waste, and by 
throwing more work on the digestive organs. Locke s principle, there 
fore, cannot be accepted implicitly, though probably there was in the 
1 7th century an inordinate consumption of meat among the upper 
classes, and among all except the very poor. I doubt if there is 
now, in middle-class families, very often much excess in this par 
ticular. The fault is common among the working classes in times of 
prosperity. Parents think that the best way of shewing their affection 
to their children is to stuff them with the greatest quantity and variety 
of food, an error which, mischievous as it is, is easily intelligible in 
those who know by near example, or even perhaps by their own 
experience, what are the pangs of hunger, (j. F. P.) 

14, p. 9, 1. 40. "Sugar" 

The prejudice against sugar as a food for children is probably with 
out foundation. It is so important a part of human milk, that when 
children are weaned, there is every reason for believing it to be a neces 
sary part of their diet. Excess is, of course, both possible and injurious 
in this as in other things, and in the case of sugar, for obvious reasons 
particularly easy. But it is better to give children plenty of sugar in 
their food than to encourage them to satisfy their natural craving by 
desultory and irregular consumption of miscellaneous sweets. It should 
not be forgotten that in Locke s time sugar, as an imported article, was 
more of a luxury than now. (J. F. r.) 

14, p. 9, 1. 41. "Slices." 

Spices and seasonings stand on altogether different ground from 
sugar. Children do not need them at all it their appetites are norniiil. 

14 2 

212 Notes. [pp. 9 ii 

A reference to some old cookery books of the ijth century will shew 
what extraordinary combinations our ancestors called by the name of 
seasoned dishes. For children there can be nothing better than the 
modern plain English cookery, and we see in some of the best French 
families a tendency to imitate us in our nursery diet, though it be in an 
art in which the English are assumed to be deficient beyond all others. 

(J- F - p -) 

14, p. 10, 1. i. " May heat the Hood." 

The phrase to "heat the blood" still survives in popular language 
as a relic of ancient science. It would take long to explain what theo 
retical meaning attached to it. Real significance it has none. (j. F. p.) 

14, p. 10, 1. 27. " Two meals a day." 

There has been much discussion about the proper number of daily 
meals. For the present purpose, it may be sufficient to point out that 
children require food much oftener than adults ; the consumption, and 
hence the chemical change of food within their bodies, being more rapid. 
No object can be served by keeping them long fasting, and there can, I 
suppose, be little objection to the modern practice of giving children three 
chief meals in the day, at one only of which is meat necessary, unless in 
exceptional caies. A piece of bread between meals is often desirable 
and seldom, if ever, injurious. With respect to the force of custom, the 
remark made above will apply; namely, that custom is formed, not in 
one lifetime, but in many. (j. F. P.) 

15, p. n, 1. 30. " / -would have no time kept constantly to meals" 

It is impossible to approve of the suggestion that children should 
have their meals at irregular hours. Both experience and physiological 
theory point to the advantages of regularity in this respect. The waste 
of the body is constant, and, to a certain extent, independent even of 
exertion. If this waste be not periodically made up for by proper 
nutrition, there is a real danger that the organs, especially in growing 
children, may be actually damaged by working them when their nutrition 
is low. It should never be forgotten that fatigue in itself and for itself 
is bad. This is well known to trainers and teachers of gymnastics, who 
find by experience that moderate exercise of the muscles, for instance, 
in a well-nourished body, favours their growth ; but that excessive 
exercise, or what is the same thing, exercise in a badly nourished body, 
rather tends to cause wasting. There is also reason to believe that the 
heart suffers (becoming dilated) if a call is made upon its activity 
during a prolonged fast. The only reason given by Locke for this 
curious suggestion is that the body may be trained to endure hardship, 
which is a very different thing. But it will be time enough to think of 
this when the period of childhood, or even that of growth, is over. 
{J. F. p.) 

p. 12] Notes. 213 

16, p. 12, I. 13. " PI! s drink should be only small beer" 

It may excite surprise that Locke should have recommended small 
beer, and not water, as the proper beverage of children ; but it must be 
remembered, in the first place, that in his time water was practically 
hardly ever taken as the habitual beverage by persons of any age. I 
cannot find it recommended in any of the books about health, which 
were so numerous in the i/th and preceding centuries*, and learned 
books were even written expressly against water-drinking. There was 
also a widely spread notion that sundry evils might result from drinking 
too much, or even any, cold water. The source of these ideas is no 
doubt to be sought chiefly in tradition and prejudice ; but it is just 
possible that this prejudice may have arisen from the fact that drinking- 
water in cities during the middle ages, arid up till our own times, was 
very frequently polluted. That is to say, actual experience of the effects of 
drinking such water during times of pestilence may have fixed firmly in 
the minds of the people the idea of its unvvholesomeness. Be this as it 
may, small beer was certainly regarded as the drink of temperate people. 
Sydenham recommends gouty persons to drink beer in preference to 
either wine or water. An illustration of the popular feeling on the 
subject is found in the play called The London Prodigal, at one time 
attributed to Shakespear, where a refined young lady declines to take 
the sack which is ordered for the party at an inn, and asks for a cup of 
small beer. Moreover, the London beer of that time was no doubt very 
weak. It was probably even less potent than the light German beer of 
the present day, and very different from anything which is now made by 
London brewers. It is even less easy to see why Locke did not recom 
mend milk as the drink for children. Tea and coffee, though not 
unknown in Locke s time, were of course regarded as narcotic luxuries. 
As for recommending them for children, it would have been thought 
quite as reasonable to suggest that they should learn to smoke tobacco. 
There can be no doubt that pure water is the right beverage of child 
hood, milk being substituted at the morning and evening meal. Beer 
is quite unnecessary, and generally better avoided, at least till the age 
of fourteen or fifteen. We unfortunately often find injurious indulgence 
to children in this respect, as in that of over-eating, among the more 
prosperous of the working classes ; rather here perhaps than in better edu 
cated families. It is difficult to treat seriously Locke s suggestion that beer 
should be brought to a blood heat before it can be drunk safely ; for if 
beer generally is unwholesome, warm beer is certainly more so, and 
nasty into the bargain. Locke seems to have had an unreasonable fear 
of allowing children to quench their natural thirst. There can be no 
objection to letting children drink pure water whenever they are thirsty, 
with the limitations pointed out in the preceding remarks, (j. F. P.) 

* Hart s Diet of the Diseased, London, 1633, is an exception. But the author 
evidently regards water-drinking as a counsel of perfection not likely to be follo-Ae J. 
See en the other side, IJfpi *uxpoiro<ruz, Of Drinking Water, against our Novelists 
that prescribed it in England, by Dr Richard Short, London, 1656. Dr Venner, of 
Bath, who promised to shew his readers which is the Via Recta ad Vitain Loiigam 
(London, 1638), warns them against water-drinking. 

2i4 Notes. [pp. 1317 

19, p. 13, 1. 18. " Wine, or strong drink. 1 

Locke s remarks upon this point can hardly be too strongly confirmed, 
on moral, as well as on physical grounds. But we must include modern 
beer among strong drinks, (j. F. p.) 

20, p. 13, 1. 35. "//V." 

Locke s advice about giving fruit to children is confirmed in a general 
way by modern experience. But the reason of his entirely forbidding 
grapes is not easy to see; for when ripe, they are perhaps the most 
wholesome of all fruit; and the experience of the so-called grape-cure 
on the Continent shews that they may be eaten in immense quantities, 
if not with benefit, at all events without harm. Children of the 
present day are fortunate in being able to get ripe oranges, since these 
supply the salts and acids which make fruit an important part of our 
diet, in the best and most agreeable form. (j. F. p.) 

21, p. 1 6, 1. 11. " S!eeJ>." 

In his remarks about sleep Locke is generally at one with modern 
experience. It is characteristic of his attention to minute details that 
he should give a caution against awakening children too suddenly ; 
but in this respect, too, the practice of the best nurses and most careful 
mothers will be found to bear him out. (J. F. P.) 

The original authority in this case seems to be the father of Mon 
taigne. Montaigne says : " Some being of opinion that it troubles 
and disturbs the brains of children suddenly to wake them in the 
morning, and to snatch them violently and over-hastily from sleep 
(wherein they are much more profoundly involved than we), he [the 
father] caused me to be wakened by the sound of some musical instru 
ment, and was never unprovided of a musician for that purpose." 
Montaigne s Essays, Chap. 25, ad fin. (Hazlitt s edition, i. p. 213). 

22, p. 16, 1. 31. " Down beds." 

Such beds seem to have gone or to be going out of fashion, and with 
reason. Either a hair or spring mattrass is the best for children as for 
every one else. (j. F. P.) 

23, p. 17, 1. 16. " Costiveness. " 

Locke s remarks on this point are so sensible that little more need 
be said, except strongly to recommend all who keep schools and are 
not above their business, to aim at the formation of good habits about 
such matters in their pupils, as the best foundation of sound health in 
after life. It may not be amiss to point out that in large schools there 
is not always sufficient provision made for punctual obedience to such 
precepts. We sometimes find a good house occupied as a school with 
no further convenience of this kind than what was provided by the 
builder for a single family. The bad effects of this neglect are obvious. 
(J- F, P.) 

pp. 18 20] Notes. 215 

25, p. 18, 1. 13. "J/eus." 

Ileus = iliaca fassio; disease of the ileum or small intestine, but 
more specially obstruction, arising from what was called volvulus, or a 
kink in the bowel. In such a case the ordinary onward peristaltic 
motion is reversed ; and a backward movement results, ending, as Locke 
hints, in vomiting, (j. F. P.) 

25, p. 18, 1. 18. "Spirits." 

Though the word spirits had a special theoretical meaning in the 
old medicine, it was used in very nearly the same sense in which we 
now say nervous influence, or nerve-force. The latter term is perhaps 
quite as open to theoretical objection as spirits. (J. F. P.) 

25, p. 18, 1. 23. "Madam Cloacina." 

Cloaca is the Lat. for sewer, as is well known from the Cloaca 
Maxima at Rome. Cloaclna is the chief " nymph who reigns o er sewers 
and sinks." 

29, p. 19, 1. 33. "Never to give children any Physick for Pre 

Readers of the present day can hardly appreciate the novelty and 
boldness of this advice. It was in Locke s time universally believed 
that diseases, especially epidemics, could be guarded against by some 
preventive drugs. This notion was a very ancient one, coming down 
from times even anterior to the age of Galen. All the old books of 
medicine are full of such prescriptions, the most celebrated of which 
were Mithridatium, bearing the name of the celebrated king of Pontus, 
and Theriacum (the modern treacle], the composition of which was 
ascribed to Andromachus, physician to the Emperor Nero. Such com 
positions were supposed to be in the first place antidotes to poisons, 
then preservative or prophylactic against poison, and generally 
against all infections or diseases. Many such medicines under the 
name of "Alexipharmaca" or "Diet drinks "were commonly taken, 
and in times of pestilence were strongly recommended for general use 
in the Official Regulations set forth by the Government with the advice 
of the College of Physicians. It is very likely that the occurrence of 
Plague in London in 1665 had again brought these drugs into vogue, 
and given a fresh stimulus to their consumption which had lasted till 
Locke s time. 

It need hardly be said that Locke s advice is most reasonable and 
"sacredly to be observed," as there is no reason to believe (modem 
quackery notwithstanding) that any drug has any prophylactic power 
against diseases, (j. F. P.) 

29, p. 20, 1. 8. "Red Poppy water, -which is the true surfeit -water." 

The leaves of the Red Poppy are as nearly as possible inert 
medicinally, and are admitted into the modern European pharma- 

216 Notes. [pp. 20, 21 

copeias chiefly as a colouring matter. "Surfeit waters" were given 
by the old physicians against the vague and inscrutable complaint 
known as a surfeit. But what they meant by this a modern physician 
finds it extremely difficult to divine, (j. F. P.) 

29, p. 20, 1. 1 8. "Not to be too forward in making use of Physick 
and Physicians" 

In this advice Locke is certain to have the concurrence of those who 
have "spent some time in the study of Physick " if, at least, they have 
spent their time to any purpose. A physician of the present day, 
Dr Chambers, remarks that a family medicine-chest may be an ex 
cellent thing, but it should be placed in the store-room of the house, 
where it cannot be got at without some trouble, (j. F. P.) 

We see in Locke s correspondence with the brothers Molyneux (one 
of them a doctor himself) how free the philosopher was from the co:n- 
mon errors of the physicians of his time. To Dr Molyneux he writes 
that physicians lay tue foundation of their system "on their own fancies 
and then endeavour to suit the phenomena of diseases and the cure of 
them to those fancies" (L. to Dr M. 20 Ja. 1695). Some years later 
(15 June, 1697) he writes to W. Molyneux, "You cannot imagine how 
far a little observation carefully made by a man not tied up to the four 
humours, or sal, sulphur and mercury, or to acid and alcali which has 
of late prevailed, will carry a man in the curing of diseases though very 
stubborn and dangerous ; and that with very little and common things 
and almost no medicine at a//." 

30, p. 20, 1. 20. 

We find then that in Locke s summary there is but one point 
which has to be corrected, namely that about keeping children s feet 
wet. (j. F. P.) 

34, p. 21, 1. 29. " Solon very well replied." 

Locke seems quoting Montaigne from memory. In the Chap. 
De la Coustume (the 22nd), Montaigne gives the conversation 
"Platan tansa un enfant qui jouoit aux noix. 11 luy respondit : 
Tu me tanses de peu de chose. L accoustumance, repliqua 
Platon, n est pas chose de peu." Coste says that the original au 
thority Diogenes Laertius makes Plato reprove a man for playing at 
dice. That Locke was thinking of Montaigne s Essay is almost certain 
from his following it in next section. (See following note.) 

3S> P- 2I > ! 3 r - " The fondling must be taught to strike." 

Here Locke is following up the train of thought suggested by 
Montaigne. After the anecdote of Plato (which Locke gives to Solon) 
quoted in preceding note, Montaigne goes on: " I find that our greatest 
vices derive their first propensity from our most tender infancy, and that 
our principal education depends upon the nurse. Mothers are mightily 
pleased to see a child writhe off the neck of a chicken, or to please 

pp. 21 33] Notes. 217 

itself with hurting a dog or a cat; and such wise fathers there are in the 
world, who look upon it as a notable mark of a martial spirit when they 
hear a son miscall or see him domineer over a poor peasant, or a 
lackey that dares not reply nor turn again; and a great sign of wit 
when they see him cheat and overreach his play-fellow by some 
malicious treachery and deceit. Yet these are the true seeds and roots 
of cruelty, tyranny and treason ; they bud and put out there, and after 
wards shoot up vigorously and grow to prodigious bulk cultivated by 
custom. And it is a very dangerous mistake to excuse these vile 
inclinations upon the tenderness of their age and the triviality of the 
subject: first, it is Nature that speaks, whose declaration is then more 
sincere, and inward thoughts more undisguised, as it is more weak and 
young; secondly, the deformity of cozenage does not consist nor de 
pend upon the difference betwixt crowns and pins; but I rather 
hold it more just to conclude thus: why should he not cozen in crowns 
since he does it in pins? than as they do who say, they only play for 
pins, they would not do it if it were for money. Children should 
carefully be instructed to abhor vices for their own contexture ; and 
the natural deformity of those vices ought so to be represented to them, 
that they may not only avoid them in their actions, but especially so to 
abominate them in their hearts, that the very thought should be hateful to 
them with what mark soever they may be disguised." (Book I. Chap. 
22, " Of Custom: Hazlitt s Ed. i. pp. 115 ff.) 

37> P- 2 3> 2O - " Give me a blow," &c. 

The meaning is : Grown people say to children, " Give me a blow and 
I ll pass it on to So-and-so." 

40, p. 27, 1. 8. "Establish the authority of a father." 

Lady Masham says: "From Mr Locke I have often heard of his 
father that he was a man of parts. Mr L. never mentioned him but 
with great respect and affection. His father used a conduct towards 
him when young that he often spoke of afterwards with great approba 
tion. It was the being severe to him by keeping him much in awe and 
at a distance when he was a boy; but relaxing, still by degrees, of 
that severity as he grew up to be a man, till, he being become capable 
of it, he lived perfectly with him as a friend. And I remember he has 
told me that his father, after he was a man, solemnly asked his pardon 
for having stntck him once in a passion when he was a boy." (F. B.i. 13.) 

51, p. 31, 1. 30. " It often brings." 

Texts of different editions shew variations here. The first edition 
has: "it is often by bringing." This Locke probably wrote, but it 
makes an awkward sentence. 

54) P- 33> ! I2 - " Good and evil, reivard and punishment, are 
the only motives to a rational creature." 

I do not understand Locke to assert that nothing weighs with 
" a rational creature " but considerations of personal loss and gain. 

2iS Notes. [pp. 33,34 

The meaning is, I take it, as follows : A rational creature is influenced 
not by passions, or by likes and dislikes, but by a calculation of what 
will produce good and evil either to himself or others. The good or 
evil following from certain actions is the reward or punishment of those 
actions. In this sense Locke seems to say that reward and punishment 
are the only motives to a rational creature; yet even a rational creature 
may sometimes act from feeling without calculation. Deeds as well as 
words may come straight "out of the abundance of the heart." The 
influence of habit too is much dwelt upon by Locke himself. Locke s 
worship of reason led him to over-estimate the influence of reflection and 
calculation; and in this section he attributes to "all mankind" a con 
stant eye to the future, though most people are for by far the greater 
portion of their lives dominated entirely by the present. 

56, p. 34, 1. 9. " Get into children a love of credit... the great secret 
of education. " 

In this Locke is at one with the Jesuits; but I know of no other 
authority who would make the great secret of education lie in what we 
may call Grundyism. In 61 Locke admits that Reputation is not the 
true principle and measure of virtue, but says that it comes nearest to the 
true principle. But why make so much of anything short of the true? 
The desire of reputation considered as a force is subject to great variations 
both in strength and direction. In strength it varies not only with 
individual character, but also with the time of life. A man who when 
young was so desirous of reputation that he would almost have thrown 
himself down Etna to gain it, past middle age will hardly consider this a 
strong enough motive for walking up. Again, the direction of the force 
depends entirely on the notions of the people whom we want to please. 
Love of reputation acts quite as strongly in making youths like Charley 
Bates and the Dodger wish to pick pockets well, as it acts in making 
candidates for Balliol Scholarships wish to do good Latin and Greek 
composition. There seems some danger of increasing this force as 
Locke would increase it, when we cannot be sure of the direction in 
which it would act. In these days it is quite as likely to turn a young 
gentleman into a half-professional athlete as into a useful member of 

The influence of reputation seems to have been much in Locke s 
thoughts, and he does not underrate the variety in the effects produced 
by it. The following occurs in his diary: "Dec. I2th, 1678. The prin 
cipal spring from which the actions of men take their rise, the rule they 
conduct them by, and the end to which they direct them, seems to be 
credit and reputation, and that which they at any rate avoid is in the 
greatest part shame and disgrace. This makes the Hurons and other 
people of Canada with such constancy endure inexpressible torments. 
This makes merchants in one country and soldiers in another. This 
puts men upon school divinity in one country, and physics and mathe 
matics in another. This cuts out the dresses for the women, and makes 
the fashions for the men ; and makes them endure the inconveniences 
of all. This makes men drunkards and sober, thieves and honest; and 

pp. 3445! Notes. 219 

thieves themselves tnie to one another. Religions are upheld by this, 
and factions maintained; and the shame of being disesteemed by those 
with whom one hath lived, and to whom one would recommend oneself, 
is the great source and director of most of the actions of men. Where 
riches are in credit, knavery and injustice that produce them are not out 
of countenance, because the state being got, esteem follows it ; as in 
some countries the crown ennobles the blood. Where power and not 
the good exercise of it gives reputation, all the injustice, falsehood, 
violence and oppression that attains that, goes for wisdom and ability. 
Where love of one s country is the thing in credit, there we shall see a 
race of brave Romans ; and when being a favourite at court was the 
only thing in fashion, one may observe the same race of Romans all 
turned flatterers and informers. He therefore that would govern the 
world well had need consider rather what fashions he makes than what 
laws ; and to bring anything into use he need only give it reputa 

66, p. 40, 1. 2. " The child s natural genius and constitution." 

Locke in this section approaches the truth which is much dwelt on 
by later writers on education, that education gives nothing, but only 
exercises and trains inborn capacities. Locke sees that " those who are 
about children should well study their natures and aptitudes," but this 
is mainly with the view of ascertaining individual peculiarities. With 
him it is not a general law, but merely a yielding to special weaknesses 
" in many cases" that "all that we can do or should aim at is to make 
the best of what Nature has given." Here he is immeasurably behind 
Rousseau who demands that the science of education should be based on 
the study of the common nature of children. 

67, p. 44, 1. 13. " To hare and rate them" 
To hare is to urge or set on by threats or blows. 

69, p. 45. Locke s note. 

Locke considers it a waste of time to quote authorities in matters 
where our own reason may decide. (O/ Study.} He is therefore sparing 
in notes ; indeed this is the only note in the Thoughts. Coste has con 
sulted Suetonius and Plutarch. The first tells us that Augustus himself 
taught his grandson to write. Plutarch in his life of Cato the Censor 
gives an account of the care which Cato took of his son even as an 
infant. He would neglect anything except public affairs to wait on the 
child and wash him and play with him. Later on he himself taught 
the child his letters although he had a slave who was a good instructor. 
But he did not wish his son to be beholden to a slave for his learning 
or to be corrected by a slave when he neglected his lessons. He after 
wards taught him the laws and instructed him in all martial exercises and 
in swimming. He even wrote in a large hand the lives of great men 
that the boy might imitate their examples. And he was as careful in 
his language before the boy as he would have been with a Vestal Virgin. 

220 Notes. [pp. 46, 47 

70, p. 46, 1. 14. " 77*1? Master to look after the manners." 

It is quite true that the masters in public schools do not attempt to 
teach manners, at least directly, but the schools seem to teach manners 
if not the schoolmasters. " Boys who learn nothing else at our 
public schools," says Thackeray, "learn at least good manners, or 
what we consider to be such." (Newcomes, Chap. XXI. ad in.); and I 
suppose nobody would seriously maintain that public-schoolmen as a 
class are inferior in " breeding" to their social equals who have been 
brought up at home or in private schools. This appeal to results seems 
to me decisive against Locke s a priori reasoning. 

70, p. 47, 1. 39. "Strip him of thai he has got from his 
companions or give him up to ruin," 

Fear of moral corruption led a much less strict moralist than Locke, 
viz. Lord Chesterfield, to desire that his successor in the title might 
be brought up by a tutor. "This person," he writes, "should be 
desired to teach him his religious and moral obligations, which are never 
heard of nor thought of at a public school, where even Cicero s Offices 
are never read, but where all the lewdness of Horace, Juvenal and 
Martial is their whole study, and as soon as they are able their practice." 
(Chesterfield s Letters about education of his successor, p. 28). Thus 
both Locke and Chesterfield seem to think that a boy could not live a 
virtuous life at a public school; but there is, thank God, no reason for 
such a belief now. So if we apply Locke s argument to the present state 
of things it breaks down. This is his argument : the chief thing a boy 
gains in a public school is sturdiness and the power of standing on his 
own legs. What is the use of this sturdiness? Why, that it may 
be a safeguard to his virtue. But if he goes to a public school he will 
gain the sturdiness at the cost of his virtue, the very thing it should 
protect. The reply to this is simple. A boy does not, in these days at 
least, necessarily become vicious in a public school. He will no doubt 
be subjected to some temptations that he would have escaped at home ; 
but he will always find a number of well-disposed boys ready to aid him 
in keeping the right path. And the mind, like the body, may suffer from 
too much " cockering and tenderness." It is strange that Locke who 
sees that rules and precepts are of little use, who teaches that habit is 
everything, and that the chief force in forming habit is the company we 
keep, nevertheless desires to bring up a youth in such seclusion that he 
would be quite unprepared for the company of equals, and would have 
formed no habits suitable for such company when he was suddenly 
introduced into it. As I have elsewhere said, Locke s notion of teaching 
knowledge of the world by means of an experienced tutor, is like pre 
paring a man to steer a vessel by getting a pilot to give him lessons on 
shore. "Nobody is made anything by hearing of rules or laying them 
up in his memory ; practice must settle the habit of doing without 
reflecting on the rule ; and you may as well hope to make a good 
painter or musician extempore by a lecture and instruction in the arts of 
music and painting as a coherent thinker or a strict reasoner by a set of 
rules shewing him wherein. right reasoning consists." (C. of U. 4.) Is 

pp.47 5 2 ] Notes. 221 

not the art of temperate and judicious living among our equals to be 
learnt by practice like the art of right reasoning? (Cf. supra, p. 74, 
11. 9 20.) 

70, p- 49, 1. 30. " Vice... ripens so fast now-a-days." 

Locke s righteous soul was so vexed by the depravity which reigned 
after the Restoration that he formed many plans for migrating to the 
New World. It is interesting to find that he looked to education for the 
remedy as the philosopher Fichte did in the dark days of Germany. 

70, p. 50, 1. ii. "Some late actions at Sea." 

" These words were written," says Coste, "during the war which 
ended in the Peace of Ryswick, 1697." Only the first short paragraph 
of this important section appears in the first edition (1693), so the above 
passage must have been written about 1695. Perhaps our defeat at 
Beachey Head was in Locke s mind. The truth of what he says was 
borne out a few years later when two captains left Benbow to fight the 
French by himself, and were afterwards tried by court-martial and shot 
for doing so. 

7> P- 5 J > ! ! "Engage them in conversation with men of 
parts and breeding." 

This is in accordance with the mediaeval practice in the bringing up 
of gentlemen. The boys served an apprenticeship to life as pages in 
the household of some nobleman. Now-a-days were it not for the long 
holidays (of which parents are constantly complaining) youths would 
seldom speak with any grown persons but schoolmasters, servants and 
tradesmen. Hence the amount of thought and conversation devoted to 
school subjects, especially the games, is out of all proportion to the import 
ance of those subjects. See an excellent article by Mr Edward Lyttelton 
on " Athletics in Public Schools " (The Nineteenth Century for January, 

73> P- 5 2 > ! 2 7- "None of the things they are to learn should ever 
be. ..imposed on them as a task." 

Schoolmasters are inclined to laugh when they first read Locke s 
suggestions about giving boys "a liking and inclination to what you 
propose to them to be learned." He seems to think that one employ 
ment is in itself as pleasant as another, and that it is the restraint only 
which sets children against their lessons. But though things are often 
made distasteful by unnecessary and over-long restraint, and by bad 
teaching, there is a difference in the things themselves, as the learners 
soon discover. Some lessons are popular, some unpopular ; some are 
liked or disliked by some boys ; others by other boys. So there is no 
denying that all lessons cannot be made equally attractive. When this 
is admitted it will further be seen that the most attractive lesson cannot 
be made as agreeable as the most attractive game, or even, to some 

222 Notes. [pp. 52 60 

boys at any rate, as the least attractive game. A boy who is good at 
history may find pleasure in the history lesson ; but for all that he 
would probably sooner be in the open air playing fives or cricket. 
The notion then that the work may be made so pleasant that no 
compulsion will be required seems to me (to use a modern cant phrase) 
"out of the sphere of practical didactics." But I would by no means 
infer from this, as some schoolmasters are inclined to, that the teacher 
is mainly a driver. I doubt very much whether the mind (the mind 
of a young person at all events) can work with any profit when it takes 
no interest and finds no pleasure in the subject. After many years 
experience I am even inclined to agree with Locke (against Arnold by 
the way) that boys as a body are not idle, and that they are "never 
sparing of their pains " ( 74, p. 54) if the work be suitable to their 
abilities. If the work is distasteful and the boys seem idle the teacher 
should seek the cause of this in a mistaken choice of subject for those 
pupils, or in his method of dealing with the subject. The great thing 
to secure in the end is, as Locke says, that " the mind should get an 
habitual mastery over itself," and be able to "betake itself to new and 
less acceptable employments without reluctance and discomposure " 
l 75> P- 54> ! 38) ; but this does not come of dreary hours spent in 
simulated attention and real intellectual apathy. 

7> P- C^, 1. 41. There is but one fault for which children should 
be beaten. 

Locke in his eagerness to do away with the too ready use of blows, 
has invented a limitation which proves much narrower than it seems to 
be. I have heard of a country where there was no imprisonment for 
debt, but where many people were in confinement for contumacious re 
fusal to pay. Similarly it turns out that Locke s rule only protects a 
child from blows for a first offence. If he tells a lie a second time, or 
even if he goes on in a course of idleness after due warning, the offence 
becomes disobedience, obstinacy, or rebellion, and is visited with the 

Sr, p. 60, 1. ig. "Reasoning with children." 

T. Warton records a saying of Locke s friend the first Lord Shaftes- 
bury : " That wisdom lay in the heart, not in the head ; and that it was 
not the want of knowledge but the perverseness of the will that filled 
men s actions with folly and their lives with disorder." (Note to 
Absalon and Achitophel.} Locke however always prefers appealing to 
the head. How far this can be done with young people is a very 
interesting question. Locke shrewdly observes that they are pleased by 
being treated as rational creatures. This is true enough, for they soon 
like the respect which they seldom get, but which they see shewn to 
those who are older. But in reasoning with children it is very difficult 
to be quite honest with them. They cannot understand the whole 
matter, and the grown person is tempted to give as the reason that 
which is only in part the reason or perhaps not the real reason at all. 
I lattered by the appeal children, and youths even, allow very readily 

pp. 60 68] Notes. 223 

anything that is put before them, and are convinced upon authority if I 
may use such a seeming contradiction. Still, nothing can be more 
unwise than to treat children like sheep and never even try to under 
stand what their view may be. That they will "reason" with or 
without a guide is absolutely certain ; so where we can we had better 
take their minds with us. 

In the case of boys, a master cannot consider too carefully the public 
opinion he has to deal with, and only in very exceptional circumstances 
should he go counter to it. 

Montaigne gives even children credit for power of reflecting and 
would teach them "philosophy." "/* enfant en est capable au partir 
de la nourrisse, beaucoup mieitx qne d^apprendre a lire ou escrire. La 
philosophie a des discoicrs pour la naissance des homines comme pour la 
decrepitude. A child when he leaves his nurse is better fitted for 
philosophy than for learning to read and write. Philosophy has 
teaching for the dawn of life as well as for its close." (Essais, Bk. I. 
ch. 25.) 

83, p. 62, 1. 29. " The smart should come immediately from another s 


The plan here recommended is that of the Jesuits. According to 
their rules corporal punishment is inflicted by a corrector who is not 
a Jesuit. But as a Roman Catholic writer, L. Kellner (in his Erzie- 
hungs-geschichte), has well said, the employment of an executioner 
changes the nature of the punishment, and gives it a judicial rather 
than a parental character. The object of the punishment being solely 
the child s good it should be inflicted by the parent or the person 
standing in loco parentis. The notion that the child will think of 
the inflicter as the cause of the pain is as little reasonable as that he 
will try to be revenged on the stick or the birch. 

90, p. 66, 1. 40. "Children should from their first beginning to talk 
have some discreet, sober, nay "wise person about lliem" 

In Locke s directions about the tutor he might have quoted Mon 
taigne, who advises that a man should be chosen with a good head 
rather than a full one (plustost la teste lien faicte cjue bien pleine}. But 
Locke is more exigeant in this matter than Montaigne ; and his notion 
that a tutor is no more to be changed than a wife is peculiarly his 

91, p. 68, 1. 4. "Montaigne." 

Although Locke seems much under the influence of Montaigne (see 
Introduction p. 1) he refers to him here only and that by mistake as 
according to Coste who edited the Essays no such anecdote occurs in 
them. Montaigne (1533 1502) preceded Locke by 99 years. The 
24th and 25th Essays o f the First Book (Of Pedantry and Of the Edu 
cation of Children) have become classical in education. They have been 
translated and published for students of education, with portions of bk. 
in. chaps. 8, 12, 13 which bear on the same subject; but the translation 
is German not English. 

224 Notes. [pp. 68 80 

91, p. 68, 1. 5. " The learned Castalio." 

Sebastian Castalio, whose Latin translation of the Bible became very 
celebrated, was born in Dauphiny or Savoy, in 1515 and died at Basel 
in 1563, in extreme poverty. 

94, p. 73, 1. 30. " The whole town Volery." 
Volcry is, like the French volicre, a collection of birds. 
94, p. 74, 1. 17. "Some notice beforehand of the Rocks and Shoals." 

Edward Panton in his Speculum Juvcntutis (London 1671) recom 
mends education by a "Governor" much as Locke does, e.g. on p. no 
he says "You will tell me it is a shame to have a Governor at 20 years 
old . . . Whence will you have a young man extract the maxims of his 
Government? Shall he take it from experience? lie has it not. Shall 
he receive it from his inclination? for one good he has a thousand ill. 
Shall he have it from his own clear ingenuity? It is that Rock where 
most suffer shipwrack . . . \Vill you have him draw it from reading and 
observing of history? Thence he may possibly get his best assistance, 
Books, like Maps may direct him which way to say], but a good 
Governor must be his best pilot to conduct him to his port of happi 

94, p. 74, 1. 34. "Civility." 

Lady Masham tells us : " If there was anything that Mr Locke could 

not sort him to or be in easy conversation with, it was ill-breeding 

Civility he thought not only the great ornament of life, and that that 
gave lustre and gloss to all our actions, but looked upon it as a Christian 
duty that deserved to be more inculcated as such than it generally was." 
(F. B. ii. 532, 3.) 

94, p. 75, 1. 7. "Latin and learning make all the noise." 

Dr Johnson, as Boswell tells us, found fault with Locke s book as 
one-sided because it attached so little importance to literature. In this 
Locke followed Montaigne as a spokesman of the party who were dis 
contented with the system of the Renascence. Montaigne admitted 
that Greek or Latin were great ornaments, "but," said he, "we buy 
them too dear." If the young gentleman is observed to shew an indis 
creet application to the study of books this must be discouraged, as it 
renders him unfit for society and turns him from "better occupations." 
(Bk. I. ch. 25.) 

94, p. 76, 1. 23. " Burgorsdicius s an i Scheiblcrs." 

Coste says these were the authors of treatises on Logic and Meta 
physics after the manner of the Schoolmen, and Locke names them 
because they were in vogue at Oxford in his day. 

98, p. 80, 1. 29. " Magisterially dictating." 

This reproof of "didactic teaching" is much less pointed than the 
passage in Montaigne beginning " Tis the custom of pedagogues to be 
eternally thundering in their pupil s ears, as if they were pouring into a 

pp. So 87] Notes. 225 

funnel, whilst the business of the pupil is only to repeat what the 
teacher has said." (Essays, Bk. I. ch. 25.) It seems strange that 
Locke says so little about teaching, but the truth is that if we under 
stand by teaching communicating knowledge, Locke attached small 
importance to it. Knowledge he held to be the internal perception of 
the mind. (Locke to Stillingfleet, F. B. ii. 432.) "Knowing is seeing ; 
and if it be so, it is madness to persuade ourselves we do so by another 
man s eyes, let him use ever so many words to tell us that what he 
asserts is very visible. Till we ourselves see it with our own eyes and 
perceive it by our own understandings, we are as much in the dark and 
as void of knowledge as before, let us believe any learned author as 
much as we will." (C. of U. 24.) So the tutor s business is to train 
the mental vision and to cultivate the desire of seeing. " We should 
always remember that the faculties of our souls are improved and made 
useful to us just after the same manner as our bodies are. Would you 
have a man write or paint, dance or fence well, or perform any other 
manual operation dexterously and with ease ; let him have ever so 
much vigour and activity, suppleness and address naturally, yet nobody 
expects this from him unless he has been used to it, and has employed 
time and pains in fashioning and forming his hand or outward parts to 
these motions. Just so it is in the mind." (C. of U. 6.) From this it 
follows that the business of education is not as I think to make the 
young perfect in any one of the sciences, but so to open and dispose their 
minds as may best make them capable of any luhen they shall apply them 
selves to it." Their studies should be various, but the end proposed 
should be "an increase of the powers and activity of the mind, not an 
enlargement of its possessions." (C. of U. % 19 ad f.) These important 
passages give us a much clearer notion of Locke s scheme of intellectual 
education than we can get from the Thoughts alone. In the Thoughts 
physical and moral education seem to throw intellectual education into 
the shade. This comes from Locke s tendency to think mainly, if not 
exclusively, of one power in the mind, the reasoning power, " the 
candle of the Lord set up by Himself in men s minds," as he calls it 
(F. B. ii. 129); and as this faculty cannot be highly developed in child 
hood, and as the imagination, then so strong, should according to Locke 
be rather repressed than cherished, he in effect puts off intellectual 
education till the young man can be his own teacher. However, he 
recommends that the reasoning power should be cultivated as far as 
possible, and should receive the greatest care and attention. (Supra, 
122, p. 1 06, 1. 34.) 

107, p. 84, 1. 33. " Queis htimana, &c. n 

" Things which human nature would grieve for were they denied to 
it." (Hor. Sat. i. i.) 

108, p. 87, 1. 17. "Curiosity should be carefully cherished in 

Curiosity is another name for taking interest, and the minds of the 
young work only when their interest is awakened. Stolidity is always 
marked by absence of curiosity. I have known some children of highly 
developed stupidity show no curiosity when taken for the first time to 

Q- *5 

226 Notes. [pp. 87 106 

the Brighton Aquarium. Captain Colomb tells us of some tribes in 
Africa who are neither excited nor interested when they first see a rail 
way train. But children s curiosity is hardly continuous enough to be 
turned to account for instruction, and their questions often show rather 
that the thing named has caught their eye than that they want to know 
about it. Professor Bain would even attribute much of such questioning to 
"egotism" and "the delight in giving trouble" (Education as a Science, 
p. 90). Locke takes up the subject again in 118, p. 103; and there 
he well says that we should observe what the child s mind aims at in 
the question. Surely the thing aimed at will rarely indeed be found to 
be "giving trouble." 

no, p. 89, 1. 33. "Taking care that he loses nothing by his 

Locke seems to me in error here. If the child learns to look for a 
return, he is no longer liberal or self-denying. If he does not learn to 
expect his gifts to "pay," there is no object gained by always rewarding 

115, p. 95, 1. 5. "Nobody courts danger for danger s sake." 

This is an odd instance how a priori reasoning may deceive in such 
matters. That some men do court danger for danger s sake is well 
established by experience. There was nothing paradoxical in Dryden s 
description of Locke s friend "Achitophel :" 

"Pleased with the danger, when the waves ran high 
He sought the storm." 

The steps in Locke s reasoning seem satisfactory. Nobody likes 
harm. Danger is the risk of harm. If we do not like a thing we 
cannot like the risk of it. But there is a flaw in this reasoning some 
where. Perhaps the excitement attending risk is pleasant, though the 
harm when it actually happens is unpleasant. 

n 6, p. 101, 1. 7. "Exclusion of Butchers from Juries." 

Having "taken counsel s opinion," I learn that there is no such 
practice now, and no indication in the legal authorities that there 
was such a practice in Locke s time. The present rules as to Jurymen 
are governed by 6 Geo. IV. c. 50 (which consolidated previous statutes) 
and 25 and 26 Viet. c. 107. As we find in these two Acts no mention 
of butchers, there probably never was any legislation about them ; and 
the practice of excluding them from Juries of life and death if it 
ever existed was a practice merely. 

122, p. 106, 1. 35. " The right improvement and exercise of our reason 
being the highest perfection that a man can attain to" 

Locke s estimate of reason is seen in the following passage: "Try 
all things, hold fast that which is good," is a divine rule coming from 

pp. 106 113] Notes. 227 

the Father of light and truth ; and it is hard to know what other way 
men can come at truth to lay hold of it, if they do not dig and search 
for it as for gold and hid treasure ; but he that does so must have much 
earth and rubbish before he gets the pure metal ; sand and pebbles and 
dross usually lie blended with it ; but the gold is nevertheless gold, and 
will enrich the man that employs his pains to seek and separate it. 
Neither is there any danger lest he should be deceived by the mixture. 
Every man carries about him a touchstone, if he will make use of it, to 
distinguish substantial gold from superficial glitterings, truth from 
appearances. And indeed the use and benefit of this touchstone, which 
is natural reason, is spoiled and lost only by assuming prejudices, over 
weening presumption, and narrowing our minds. The want of exer 
cising it in the full extent of things intelligible, is that which weakens 
and extinguishes this noble faculty in us. (C. of U. iii. 3.) 

130, p. 112, 1. 14. " Nothing that may form children s minds is to be 

In this large view of the educator s task lies the chief merit of the 
Thoughts, The Jesuits had been the first educators after the Re 
nascence who were not instructors merely. 

130, p. 113, 1. 1 8. " Tops, gigs, battledores." 

A gig is here something of the top kind. The dictionaries quote 
Shakespeare (L. L. L. iv. 3) : " to see great Hercules whipping a gig" 

130, p. 113, 1. 31. " The flays and diversions of children." 

I have said in the Introduction that the main value of Locke s 
work lies in its emphasizing and expanding Montaigne s great lesson 
Education before Instruction! The Renascence brought about the 
substitution of instruction for education, and the two have been con 
fused ever since. Those who thought of nothing but teaching children 
took no notice of their games. Rabelais however saw the value of 
games; and Montaigne shows his singular insight when he says, "// 
faut noter que les jeux des enfants ne sont pas jeiix ; et les faut jttger 
en eux comme leiirs plus serienses actions. We must take note that the 
games of children are not games in their eyes ; and we must regard 
these as their most serious actions" {Essais, liv. I. c. 22). Montaigne 
is here thinking of the way in which children throw themselves into 
their games ; but the fact that they do thus enter into them heart and 
soul gives to the games a great effect, and therefore makes them 
interesting to the educator. David Stow urged teachers to go to the 
playground to learn about children. But when the educator becomes 
interested in the games he will wish to get them organized with a view 
to certain educational effects. This is what Locke recommends in the 
text (cf. 15-2, p. 132 supra], and what Froebel has worked out in the 
Kindergarten. The germ of the Kindergarten seems to lie in these few 
words of Locke s. While on this subject I may mention an excellent 
little book called What is Play? by Dr Strachan (Edinburgh, Douglas, 
price is.). 

228 Notes. [pp. 113 izo 

When childhood is passed games are mostly organized by the boys 
themselves, and till lately the boy s life " out of school " has not had 
much attention from schoolmasters. Where the day-school system 
prevails as in Germany the boy belongs as much to the family as to the 
school. This has of course some great advantages, but it has two great 
drawbacks : it turns schoolmasters into mere teachers, and it renders 
vigorous games almost impossible. In the French lycees the masters 
who are concerned with the boys life out of school are (with the 
exception of the censeur and proviseur who have general control) 
persons of inferior grade and influence. In English public schools the 
games and out-of-school life generally are organized by the boys. 
Partly from their being overworked, partly from the traditional system, 
the masters as a rule leave the boys very much to themselves. Any 
one who turns to the Report of the Public Schools Commission must 
see that in time past the boys were more successful in organizing the 
games than the masters in organizing the studies. There have been 
great improvements since that Report came out, but there is still in my 
opinion too much separation in thoughts and interests between masters 
and boys. It is a good thing for the boys to act for themselves, but 
they suffer, intellectually at least, by living in such an isolated boy- 
world. (See also Note to p. 51, 1. i.) 

132, p. 115, 1. 4, "let it [the excuse] pass for true, and be sure not to 
show any suspicion of it." 

Dr Arnold s practice is well known from a saying of his pupils men 
tioned by Stanley: "It is a shame to tell Arnold a lie; he always 
believes one [?. e. takes one s word]. " The wisdom of this was some time 
since questioned by Mr Lake in a letter in the Spectator. If we follow 
Locke we are relieved from the obligation to be quite sincere in our in 
tercourse with the young ; but it is not easy to understand how they 
are to become sincere in an atmosphere of deceit. If we are, as Locke 
says, cameleon-like, nothing will make the young straightforward but 
straightforwardness in those who bring them up. Still, we are not war 
ranted in showing suspicion when as far as we know we have never 
been deceived ; and every one will do more to keep a good character 
than to gain one. Sincerity is I believe essential, but we ought to 
show and to feel a readiness to believe where belief is possible. 

138, p. 118, 1. 13. " CJiildren let alone -would be no more afraid in 
the dark than in the sunshine." 

Locke the great enemy of hypotheses seems here under the influence 
of an hypothesis, viz. that all our conceptions depend solely on what 
is external to us, so that before the age of reason we may be taught one 
thing as easily as another. Would he have asserted that you might 
train children never to feel safe except in the dark? As usual he seems 
to think little of the strength of imagination in children. 

141, p. 120, 1. 14. " Good Breeding," 

To good breeding Locke attached the very greatest importance : and 
he seems from Lady Masham s account to have been very intolerant of 

pp. 120 129] Notes. 229 

its opposite. Having lived among distinguished people both in England 
and on the Continent he had had abundant opportunity of generalizing 
on this subject, and 141 146 form an admirable essay on manners, 
so true to nature that it can never become obsolete. See p. 224, 

147, p. 128, 1. 25. "Learning I think the least part" 

As I have already said (Introduction and notes to p. 75, 1. 7 an( l 
p. 113, 1. 31) I consider this sentence gives us the gist of Locke s 
pedagogy. It was the great merit of Montaigne and Locke that their 
minds were not engrossed like those of the Renascence scholars by 
"learning," and they therefore thought and led others to think of the 
learner. As Michelet has put it, in their system the main thing was 
" non Cobjet, le savoir ; mats le snjet, c est Phomme" (A T os Fits, p. 170.) 
Hettner in confirmation of this has called attention to Locke s letter 
to Lord Peterborough on the choice of a tutor. This letter contains 
nothing but what we find in the Thoughts ; but it is interesting, as it 
shows us how settled Locke s convictions were : 

"I must beg leave to own that I differ a little from your Lordship 
in what you propose ; your Lordship would have a thorough scholar, 
and I think it not much matter whether he be any great scholar or no ; 
if he but understand Latin well, and have a general scheme of the 
sciences, I think that enough : but I would have him well-bred, well- 
tempered ; a man that having been conversant with the world and 
amongst men, would have great application in observing the humour 
and genius of my Lord your son ; and omit nothing that might help to 
form his mind, and dispose him to virtue, knowledge, and industry. 
This I look upon as the great business of a tutor ; this is putting life 
into his pupil, which when he has got, masters of all kinds are easily to 
be had ; for when a young gentleman has got a relish of knowledge, the 
love and credit of doing well spurs him on ; he will with or without 
teachers, make great advances in whatever he has a mind to. Mr Newton 
learned his mathematics only of himself; and another friend of mine, 
Greek (wherein he is very well skilled) without a master ; though both 
these studies seem more to require the help of a tutor than almost any 
other." In a letter to the same correspondent on the same subject, 1697, 
he says : " When a man has got an entrance into any of the sciences, it 
will be time then to depend on himself, and rely upon his own under 
standing, and exercise his own faculties, which is the only way to im 
provement and mastery." See note to "Magisterially dictating," p. 224. 

147, p. 129, 1. 20. "Latin and Logick." 

These were the only studies of universal obligation, and both had 
been established in the Middle Ages. The old Trivium which all the 
"educated" passed through consisted of Grammar, Logic and Rhetoric. 
The first was supposed to be "absolved" at school, the other two at 
the University. Logic still lingers at Oxford, though it has vanished 
from Cambridge. We find Locke very strongly against the disputations 
common in his time; but he seems to think some knowledge of logic 
should precede the study of mathematics. (Sec Introduction, p. xxxi.) 

230 Notes. [pp. 129 133 

Logic however was then connected with "disputations" or "oppo 
sitions," and of these Locke disapproved very strongly. " Disputations 
in logic and other philosophy belong rather to the University," says 
Brinsly, and the schools should respect the University s privilege ; 
yet he tells of schools "where the scholars have been able to dispute 
ex tempore of any ordinary moral question which you should propound 
unto them." (Ludus Literarius Chap. xvii. 206.) 

For the curriculum of the first half of the I7th century see two 
valuable articles by Professor T. S. Baynes ("What Shakespeare learnt 
at School") in Eraser s Magazine for November and December, 1879. 

150, p. 131, 1. 4. "Playthings to teach children to read." 

Games have been used for instruction from time immemorial. Plato 
praises the Egyptian practice of teaching arithmetic in games (Laws, 
vii. 819, quoted by A. S. Wilkins, National Education in Greece). In 
Rabelais too cards are brought in after dinner to learn "a thousand 
pretty tricks all grounded on arithmetic." Perhaps such games as Locke 
suggests for reading and spelling would have become more common if 
dice had generally kept good company. 

156, p. 133, 1. 14. "Some easy pleasant book suited to his capacity 
should be put into his hands." 

In most schools, schools for the poor especially, reading is still 
treated too much as a mechanical art, and is usually taken as sy 
nonymous with reading aloud. Schoolmasters and school-managers 
have till quite lately neglected the obvious truth, that if the book is 
pleasant the entertainment they find in it will draw the children on. 
Locke s words remain only too true: "These baits seem wholly neg 
lected in the ordinary method ; and tis usually long before learners find 
any use or pleasure in reading, which may tempt them to it. " Since 
the Inspectors have been empowered to require "intelligent" reading 
in England as well as Scotland there has been some improvement; but 
the supply of "pleasant books" is still far too small, and there is seldom 
a scholars lending library. We have not yet found (and probably 
never shall find) a better reading-book for children than the one Locke 
suggests. W T hy should not yEsop be made a permanent classic in our 
elementary schools as Virgil is in our higher schools ? 

156, p. 133, 1. 24. "Pictures." 

In the i yth century although the mechanical art of producin" 
picture-books was in its infancy, the value of such books for instruct 
tipn was better understood than it is perhaps now. The most celebrated 
pictorial school-book ever published was the Orbis Pictus of Comenius 
(first edition, 1657). Considering the wonderful amount of skill and 
energy shown in illustrating children s periodicals it is strange that our 
artists now-a-days rarely meddle with school-books. Some good pic 
ture-rolls have lately been published by Messrs Partridge and by the 
Religious Tract Society. On the Continent pictures are coming into 

pp. 133 137] Notes. 231 

use in all school-rooms. See e.g. the Ktuist-historische Bilderbogen 
published by Hunderstund, Leipzig, and for children Pfeiffer s Bilder 
fur Anschawmgs-unterricht : Perthes, Gotha. 

160, p. 136, 1. 8. " The first thing should be taught him is to hold his 
pen right." 

It would be very interesting to trace the changes that have taken 
place in handwriting and in the methods of teaching it. There seems 
nothing liable to such complete revolutions : witness the difference 
between a ladylike hand of the present day and that written by our 
mothers and grandmothers. A writer in the Spectator (Feb. 7, 1880) 
recommends that the pupils be allowed to hold their pen as they like, 
and this is often the practice though not the theory of masters. For 
the approved method in the i7th century see Brinsly s Ludits Literaritis, 
chap. iv. He directs that each boy have pen, ink, paper, ruler, plummet, 
ruling-pen, pen-knife &c., also blotting-book. Each must make his 
own pen, as no one can attain to write fair without that skill. " Next 
unto this, cause your scholler to hold his pen right, as neere unto the 
nebbe as he can, his thumbe and two fore-fingers, almost closed to 
gether, round about the neb, like unto a Cats foote, as some of the 
Scriveners doe terme it. Then let him learne to carry his pen as lightly 
as he can, to glide or swimme upon the paper." (Ludus Lit., chap. iv. 
p. 30.) His plan of making the pupil go over writing with a dry fen 
is something like Locke s. 

1 60, p. 136, 1. 21. " TTieway to teach him to -write." 

The plan here recommended had been tried by Locke with the 
children of the Quaker merchant Furly at Rotterdam. See Fox Bourne s 
L. of L. ii. p. 74. 

161, p. 136, 1. 38. "Drawing" 

Locke in this part of his work thinks too exclusively of " the useful " 
in the narrowest sense of the word. Here he neglects the discipline 
of the sight, which is gained in drawing, a very real advantage I be 
lieve, though it has lately been disputed by Professor Bain. 

161, p. 137, 1. 19. "Nilinvita Minerva." 

"Do nothing without the consent of Minerva," i.e. against the 
natural bent, against tlie grain. 

161, p. 137, 1. 20. " Shorthand. " 

This was not mentioned in first edition, but was added afterwards 
at the suggestion of \V. Molyneux. Locke writes to Molyneux (23 
Aug. 1693), "I am of your mind as to Short-hand: I myself learned 

232 Notes. [pp. 137 141 

it since I was a man, but have forgot to put it in when I writ ; as I 
have, I doubt not, overseen a thousand other things which might have 
been said on this subject. But it was only at first a short scheme for a 
friend, and is published to excite others to treat it more fully." I may 
mention that Dr Wormell, Head-master of the great School in Cowper 
Street, London, tells me that having introduced the teaching of short 
hand simply as an art of use to people in business, he has found that it 
has great educational value in sharpening boys wits, and gives a capital 
training in analysing sounds. It has too the great recommendation of 
being popular with boys. The system used is Pitman s. 

162, p. 138, 1. 3. lt The Latin tongue ivould easily be tattght the same 
way [i.e. by talking]." 

This experiment was tried with Montaigne. Locke also engaged 
a lady who could talk "Latin and Greek" to teach the child 
"Mr Anthony," afterwards the third Lord Shaftesbury. See In 

166, p. 140, 1. 8. " Knowledge of things that fall under the senses." 

This and 169, p. 149, are the only passages I have observed in 
which Locke even hints at what the Germans call Anschauungs-unter- 
richt, i.e. instruction through the senses. We should have expected 
his philosophical views to have interested him in this demand of " the 
Innovators." But he seems to care little about " realism " or the study 
of things ; and here he does not get beyond "verbal realism." I 
infer that he had not read Comenius, and perhaps had not heard of 

167, p. 141, 1. 13. "Sancfii Minerva. " 

The Spaniard Francis Sanctius in the i6th century wrote a learned 
work called Minerva, seu de causis linguce Latince Commentarius. This 
is an elaborate treatise in Latin on the grammar of the Latin language; 
and with the notes of Scoppius and Perizonius it makes two formidable- 
looking volumes. If the study of Latin grammar were put off till the 
young gentleman were able (and willing) to study Sanctius, Scoppius and 
Perizonius, this looks a little like fixing it for the Greek Kalends. But 
Locke would avoid a common error in teachers of languages, of the 
classical languages especially, who try to make boys "learn" gram 
matical niceties entirely beyond their comprehension. In the struggle, 
as Professor Seeley has well said, the children do not become gram 
marians but the grammar becomes childish. Many of us spent much 
time and effort as boys in learning and applying such "rules" as that 
"when two substantives of different meaning come together the latter is 
put in the Genitive case." The absurdities of the old grammar were 
exposed by a contemporary of Locke s, Richard Johnson, sometime 
Master of the King s School, Canterbury, whose Grammatical Com 
mentaries appeared in 1706. The Public School Primer is no doubt far 
less childish than the book it superseded. Whether children are made 
grammarians by it is another question. 

pp. 149153] Notes. 233 

169, p. 149, 1. 17. "Join as mtich other real knowledge with it as 
you can. " 

Here Locke seems to join "the Innovators," or at least to go a 
little way with them in their demand, " Things, not -words I" The 
word real " too is used in their sense connecting it with res (the 
word Reales according to Meyer s Conversations Lexicon was first used 
in 1614 by Taubmann). But to this important field for instruction he 
only gives a dozen lines. 

172, p. 151, 1. 22. " To speak ex tempore." 

In a previous note (p. 230 ad in.) I quoted a passage from Brinsly 
which shows ex tempore speaking was practised in the higher classes of 
schools in the first half of the i7th century. But since "disputations" 
died out there has been no use of the living voice except in construing 
or saying by heart. In German schools the practice is common of the 
pupils giving in their own words a continuous narrative of what they 
have been studying. This -viva voce practice is a very good training 
in the use of the mother tongue. See 189, p. 163, 1. 38. 

174, p. 152,1. 25, " Poetry and gaming usually go together" 

This is a most astounding assertion from one of Milton s con 
temporaries ; but we must remember that Milton "dwelt apart" from 
all the so-called poets of his age, and that the best poetry then popular 
was Waller s and Dryden s. Still it seems harsh to associate such 
poetry as theirs with gaming ; and we cannot help connecting this out 
burst against the Muse with Locke s own unsuccessful addresses to her. 
It is only the writing of poetry that he would repress so sternly. The 
reading of " poetical writings for diversion and delight " he recommends 
to " a young gentleman." (See Appendix A.) 

r 75> P- I 53> ! IO " their being forced to learn by heart great parcels 
of the authors." 

Here Locke follows Montaigne in his celebrated " Savoir par cxur 
n est pas savoir. To know by heart is not to know." Knowing is 
according to these writers the perception of the mind. This perception 
may be caused by a form of words, but when obtained it must be quite 
independent of any words. Knowing by heart then is distinct from 
knowing. It may indeed coexist with knowledge, but it is a different 
thing. But this definition of knowledge the perception of the mind 
limits it to intellectual ideas; and this limitation is not usually ad 
mitted. Such ideas may be associated with beautiful or vigorous words, 
and then the words themselves may fitly become a subject of know 
ledge. Unfortunately the knowledge of a form of words is more easily 
acquired and much more easily tested than any other kind of know 
ledge ; and it has therefore been made far too much of in instruction. 
This has led in some cases to a violent reaction, and the practice of 
"memorizing" has been entirely given up. But it is a great gain, 
as Locke himself admits, to have in our minds beautiful forms of words 
which recall beautiful thoughts. The main thing is to require the 

234 Notes. [p. 153 

young to learn only what is worth remembering, and then to take care 
that this is remembered and recalled from time to time till it becomes 
a settled possession of the mind. "We learn by heart passages from 
the poets when we are boys," says Aeschines, "in order that we may 
have the benefit of them when we are men " (Aeschin. against Ktes. 
135, quoted by J. H. Krause, Erziehung bei den Griechen, p. 90). 
There are some excellent remarks on learning by heart, and against 
learning "great parcels of the authors," in a work certainly known to 
Locke, as he translated part of it into English, the Port-Royalist 
Nicole s Pensees. The chapter I refer to is de V Education d nn 

The advantages of learning poetry by heart in our youth have been 
dwelt upon by Hallam in a passage worth quoting. Speaking of Milton, 
he says : " Then the remembrance of early reading came over his dark 
and lonely path like the moon emerging from the clouds. Then it was 
that the Muse was truly his; not only as she poured her creative 
inspiration into his mind, but as the daughter of Memory coming with 
fragments of ancient melodies, the voice of Euripides, and Homer and 
Tasso ; sounds that he had loved in youth and treasured up for the 
solace of his age. They who though not enduring the calamity of 
Milton have known what it is when afar from books, in solitude or in 
travelling, or in the intervals of worldly care, to feed on poetical recol 
lections, to murmur over the beautiful lines whose cadence has long 
delighted their ear ; to recall the sentiments and images which retain 
by association the charm that early years once gave them they will 
feel the inestimable value of committing to the memory in the prime 
of its power what it will easily receive and indelibly retain. I know 
not indeed whether an education that deals much with poetry such as 
is still usual in England has any more solid argument among many in its 
favour than that it lays the foundation of intellectual pleasure at the 
other extreme of life." 

176, p. 153, 1. 37. " To exercise and improve their memories." 

Mr Henry Latham in his book On the Action of Examinations 
has distinguished between different kinds of memory, the "carrying" 
memory, the "analytical" memory and the "assimilative" memory. He 
points out that the memory grows to the circumstances in which she 
finds herself. If we would train the memory then we must train it 
in the way in which it is required to work. A barrister would be 
no match for an actor in committing to memory a particular form of 
words, but then the actor would be no match for the barrister in 
remembering the main points of a case. The school-boy memory 
grows to the circumstances in which it finds itself, and becomes very 
expert at "carrying;" but this skill though useful for examinations 
may easily be acquired at the expense of more valuable power. Those 
who know how to make use of "the Three A s," as they have been 
called, Attention, Arrangement and Association, will perhaps come to 
a different conclusion from Locke, who thinks the memory not capa 
ble of much help and amendment by any exercise or endeavour of 
ours. It is remarkable that Locke who has written of the Associa 
tion of Ideas does not name here this "strong combination" which 

PP- T 53 164] Notes. 235 

"the mind makes in itself either voluntarily or by chance." (Of 
Human Understanding, Bk. ii. Ch. 33, 6. See too what he says of 
memory, same bk. ch. 10). 

176, p. 154, 1. 6. " An impression made on beeswax or lead will 
not last so long as on brass or steel." 

In speaking of the mind we are compelled to use similes and meta 
phors drawn from the material world ; but unless we are on the look-out 
these are sure to lead us into great confusion and error. 

Dr Johnson maintained that the mind could retain one thing as well 
as another : to deny it would be the same as saying that the hand could 
hold silver money but not copper. It might be retorted that to affirm 
it is like saying that the hand can hold a bit of ice as long as a bit of 
wood. Locke is more careful, but Hallam finds great fault with him 
for his use of analogies. In the following the figure is at least ef 
fective : 

There seems to be a constant decay of all our ideas, even those 
which are struck deepest and in minds the most retentive, so that if 
they be not sometimes renewed by repeated exercise of the senses, or 
reflection in those kind of objects which at first occasioned them, the 
print wears out and at last there is nothing to be seen. Thus the ideas 
as well as the children of our youth often die before us ; and our minds 
represent to us those tombs to which we are approaching, where though 
the brass and marble remain the inscriptions are effaced by time, and 
the imagery moulders away." (Of H. U. Chap, on Retention). 

178, p. 157, 1. i. "/ now live in the hozise with a child. " 
Frank Masham. See Introduction p. xxxix. 

183, p. 160, 1. 7. " Hclvicus." 

Christopher Helvicus or Helwig, a celebrated scholar in his day, was 
born near Frankfurt, 1581, and died at the age of 35 (1617). He 
studied at Marburg, and took his Bachelor s degree at 14 years old, and 
at 15 was celebrated for his Greek verses. He was afterwards professor 
at Giessen. His name occurs in the history of education, as he was one 
of the professors appointed to examine the system of Ratichius. His 
daughter married the amusing writer on education, J. B. Schuppius. 

188, p. 162, 1. i. " Rhetorick and logick usually follow 

immediately after Grammar. 1 

The three formed the Trivium. See note on p. 229 ad fin. 

189, p. 164, 1. 33. " Voitures." 

I do not know how the final s crept in here. The author referred to 
is Vincent Voiture (1598 1648), whose letters from Spain, &c. to the 
habitues of the Hotel de Rambouillet were published and became very 
celebrated. Pope was fond of them. "They give some idea," says 
Voltaire, "of the superficial graces of that epistolatory style which is by 
no means the best, because it aims at nothing higher than pleasantry and 
amusement. " 

236 Notes. [pp. 170 187 

193, p. 170, 1. 5. "Mr Boyle s." 

Robert Boyle had once an immense reputation. In Chalmers s 
Biographical Dictionary he is called "the most illustrious philosopher 
of modern times." This is reduced in the Encyclopedia Britannica 
to " one of the greatest and best of modern philosophers ;" and still 
further abatement may be possible. But in the i7th century he was 
thought a far greater man than Locke, an estimate partly due to the 
circumstance that the father of the one was an earl, and of the other a 
country attorney. Boyle was five or six years older than Locke, having 
been born in 162^. He died in 1691. Boyle formed at Oxford a 
school of Experimental Natural Science, and was the leader in apply 
ing the principles of Bacon to the discovery of Nature s laws. Locke 
was among the number of his friends and correspondents. 

198, p. 175, 1. 25. " Riding the great horse." 

Coste translates simply monter a cheval. But why "great horse" ? 
I have heard it suggested that "the great horse" was the war horse as 
opposed to the palfrey used for travelling : and this I believe is the true 
explanation. Lord Herbert of Cherbury says he had excellent masters, 
English, French, and Italian in " riding the great horse and fencing," and 
he gives elaborate directions " how to make a horse fit for wars. " It 
will be remembered that Marmion has his war-horse led while he him 
self rides a palfrey. 

200, p. 177, 1. 8. " Nullum tinmen, &c. 
"No deity is absent where there is Prudence." A line in Juvenal. 

20 r, p. 177, 1. 28. "A mamial trade." 

Locke seldom quotes authorities. He might here have referred to 

Rabelais and Montaigne. 

216, p. 187, 1. 4. " He must be lack again by one and twenty to 

Locke seems from this passage to have been dissatisfied with the 
early marriage of the second Lord Shaftesbury, a marriage which he 
himself was concerned in. See Introduction, p. xxv. 

217, p. 187, 1. 34. " White paper, or wax to be moulded and 
fashioned as one pleases. " 

This conception which explains many of Locke s peculiar suggestions 
differs from the theory that children have evil propensities, and that 
education is in a great measure restraint. It differs no less from Froebel s 
theory that everything is contained in the child as the oak lies in the 


ACCOUNTS, keeping, 182, 183 

Action guided by foresight and desire, 

Activity of children, 4, 55 

Aeschines on learning poetry, 234 

Aesop, 133 ; only book fit for children, 

Affectation the result of care, 40; de 
fined, 41, 1. 22; worse than rough na 
ture, 42 

Amusements, 87 

Animals, training of, begun early, 22 

Aptitude, seasons of, 53 

Aptitudes to be studied, 40 

Arithmetic, 157 

Arnold, Dr, on believing boys, 228 

Arnstaedt s succession, Rabelais &c.,xlix 

Asking, against children s, 85 

Association of ideas, 235 

Astronomy, 158 

Attention, difficulty of, 142 

Autodidacticus, 75 

Bain, A., on children s curiosity, 226 

Banks, Locke s pupil, xxx 

Bashfulness better than vice, 47 

Baths, 5, 207, 208 

Baynes, Prof. T. S., 230 

Beds, hard, 16, 214 

Beer, 213 

Benbow, 221 

Bible, reading and learning from, 134 ; 

Latin, 156; study of, 167 
Books, amusing, 133 ; not the main study, 

Ap. B, 202 
Bowels, action of, 17 
Boyle, Robt., 170, 1. 5, 236 
Boys not idle, 222 
Breeding, 229 
Brinsly on disputations, 230; on writing, 


Burgursdicius, 76, 1. 23 
Butchers on juries, 101, 1. 7, 226 

Caesar, n, 1. 15 

Castalio, 68, 1. 5, 224 

Cato the Censor, example of, 45, 219 

Ceremony, excess of, 124 

Chameleons take tincture from things 

near, 44 
Character, study of, 82, 119 

Chesterfield, Lord, on public schools, 220 

Chiding wrong, 56 

Childish faults, 144 

Childishness, 37 

Children free to be childish, 37, 1. 25 ; 

less idle than men, 132 ; like white 

paper, 187 
Chillingworth for reasoning, 162, Ap. B, 


Chronology, 159 

Civility, mutual, of children, 88, 224 
Cleve, journey to, xxiii 
Cloacina, 215 
Clothes must be loose, 8 
Clothing not too warm, 3 
Colomb, Capt., quoted, 226 
Comenius, Orbis Pictus, 230 
Commendation, power of, 104 
Companions, influence of, 128 
Company all-important, 45, 1. 31 
Corporal punishments, 30, 36; when to 

be used, 57; how to be applied, 62; 

not needed for learning, 64 
Corruption of the time, 49, 1. 30 
Coste quotes Suetonius, 219 
Costiveness, 214 
Courage, 94 ; how trained, 100 
Cowardice comes from frights, 96 
Cruelty, 23, 101 ; a habit, 102 
Crying, 91 93 
Cud worth, 169, 1. 30 
Curiosity to be cherished, 87, 103, 225 
Curriculum of ijth century, 230 
Custom. See Habit 

Dancing should be taught early, 42, 

1. 39, 174 

Danger for its own sake, 226 
Dark, children need not fear, 118 
Day schools, weak point of, 228 
Deceit soon perceived by children, 104, 

1- 34 

Descartes, 169 

Dibstones, 132 

Didactic teaching, against, 80, 1. 27 

Diet, 9 

Diodorus Siculus, 45 

Disputations, against, 81, 162, 163; judg 
ment spoilt by, 81 

Dissoluteness prevailing, 50 

2 3 8 


Domineering, children fond of, 83 

Don Quixote, Ap. B, 192 

Dramatic writings, reading of, Ap. B, 


Drawing, 136, 231 
Drink, 12, 13 
Drinking cold drink, 209 
Dryden on Achitophel, 226 
Dutch, 4 

Education, influence of, 204; not giving 

knowledge, 225 

Educator s task, Locke s view of, 227 
Elementary schools, reading in, 230 
English morals in Locke s time, 221 
Ethics, 160 
Eutropius, 145 
Example, force of, 44 
Examples, learning from, 61 
Excuses, 114 

Farnaby s Rhetorick, 165 

Father and son, 28, 78 So 

Father, Locke s, 217 

Fear, origin of, 97 

Feet, wet, 216 

Feminine influence, Locke s want of, 208 

Fencing, 175, 176 

Floyer, Sir John, 208 

Foolhardiness, 94 

French language, 137, 138 

Froebel and Locke, 236 

Fruit, 13, 14, 214 

Furly, Arent, of Rotterdam, 231 

Games for reading, 131 ; in public schools, 

221 ; value and use of, 227 
Games, educational use of, 113 
Gaming for want of employment, 180 
Gardening, 178 9 
Gentleman s calling, Ap. B, 192 
Geography, 156 
Geometry, 158 
Germany, 5 
Gigs, 113, 1. 18, 227 
Girls physical education, 209 
Globes, use of, 157, 159 
Goblins, 117, 167 
God, first teaching about, 116 
Goldsmith on hardening, 207 
Good breeding, 69, 120 S. See Civility 
Governor. See Tutor 
Gracefulness, wherein it consists, 41 
Grammar, language learning without, 

145; by whom needed, 146 
Greek to be omitted, 170 
Grotius. 161 
"Grundyism", 218 
Habit, 21 ; importance of, liv; v. Reason, 

91 ; self-denial by, 7, 25 
Habits woven into the principles, &c., 28 
Hallam on Locke, 204; for learning 

poetry, 234 

Hardening the body, 2, 2057 
Hardiness from voluntary pain, 98 

Hare, to hurry with terror, 44, 1.1 1. a 
Harshness prevents attention, 143 - 
Hart, Diet of the Diseased, 213 note 
Health, care of, Ap. B, 197 
Heaven our chief aim, Ap. B, 196 
Helvicus, 160, 1. 7, 235 
Hettner quoted, 229 
History, 160 ; right kind of, Ap. B 

203 ; wrong kind of, Ap. B, 195 
Hopkins and Sternhold, 129, 1. 7 
Horace, 5, 1. 32 ; quoted, 84, 225 
Hornbook, 134 

Ileus, 215 

111 breeding, 121 

Importunity, do net reward, 26 

Inclination palate of mind, Ap. B, i 

Incorrigible, the, 65 

Instructionsfor the conduct, &c., Ap. B 


Intellectual education put off, 229 
Intemperance, 24 
Interrupting, rudeness of, 126 

Japaner, 105 

Jesuits flogged per alium, 223 ; no 

mere instructors, 227 
Jews use of cold water, 5 
"J. F. P.", 204 
Johnson, Dr, on Locke, 224; on Memory 

Johnson, Richard, Grammatical Com 

Judgment spoilt by disputing, 81 
Justice, 90 
Justin, 145 

Kellner on flogging per alium, 223 

Knowledge grateful as light, 104, 1. 
object of, Ap. B, 192; of self, Ap. B 
202 ; perception of mind, 225 

Known to unknown, 174 

Krause, J. H., 234 

La Bruyere quoted. 171 

Lake. C. H., on believing boys, 228 

Language, over-cultivation of, Ap. B 

T 94 

Latham, Rev. H. , on memory, 235 
Latin necessary, 138, 755 
Law, gentleman s study of, 161 
Learning comes last, 128 
Leclerc, friendship with, xxxv 
Letters, writing of, 164 
Liberality encouraged, 89 ; paying, 226 
Liberty, children delight in, 52 
Lilly s grammar always taught, 139 
Listlessness, 108 

Literature, Locke depreciates, 224 
Locke s life. See Table of Contents 
Logic, 129, 162, 230 
Lying. 24, 114 
Lyttelton, Hon. Edw., on Athletes i 

public schools, 221 




i.ers, 42; come by imitation, 44; re- 

,uit of respect and good will, 43 

Manual arts, 178 

.Marrying too early, 187 

Masham, Frank, "hardened," 208 

Masham, Lady, quoted, 224 

Maxima debetur, &c., 51 

Meals, 10, n, 212 

Meat for children, 210 

Medicine, 2, 19, 216; Locke s study of, 

Memorizing, 234 

Memory, 153 ff. ; decay of our ideas, 235 ; 
"the three A s," 234 

Metaphors, danger of, 235 

Metaphysics, 167 

Michelet, Le sujet c est Fhontme, 229 

Mind must get mastery over self, 54 ; 
physiognomy of, 82 

Minds differ like bodies, 82 

Mischief doing not natural, 101 

Z*Iolyneux, W., correspondence with, xxxix 

Montaigne, 68; learnt Latin in talking, 
232 ; and Locke, points of agreement 
lix; on didactic teaching, 224 ; on har 
dening, 209; on Latin and Greek, 224; 
on lessons in cruelty, 216 ; on tutor, 
223 ; on waking, 214 ; philosophy for 
child, 223 ; savoirparcaur, 233 ; when 
born, 223; Montaigne s Theory, 233 

Moral Philosophy, our proper study, Ap. 
B, 201 

Mother tongue, 147, 162, 163, 166; 

neglect of, 165 
Mulcaster, Richd., for physical ed., Hi 

Music, 174 

Narrating, practising, 163 

N atural philosophy can never be a science, 

166 ; no certainty in, 169 
Natural science we can know little of, Ap. 

B, 201 

Nature surpasses our faculties, 166 
Nature to be made the best of, 219 
Nature to be studied, 40 
Nature s secrets, Ap. B, 201 
Newman, J. H., charge against Locke, Ivi 
Newton, 170; and Locke, xliv 
Nicole s Pensees, 234 
Nil invita Miuerza, 137, 231 
Nullutn numen abest, &c. , 177, 236 

Obstinacy, rod for, 56, 57 

"Of Study," Ap. B, 192 ff. 

Opemnindedness, Ap. B, 198 

Opiniatry, 81 

Opinions unimportant, Ap. B, 194 

Orbis Pictus, 231 

Pain, discipline by voluntary, 99 
Panton, E., Speculum Juventutis, 224 
Parent and child, 27 
Parents company, importance of, 45 
Parnassus has no gold mines, 152 
Party opinions, Ap. B, 199 

Payne, Dr J. F., Preface; Notes by, 

204 ff. 

Perizonius, 233 

Peterborough, Locke s letter to Lord, 229 
Philosophy for children, 223 
Physic not be used, 2, 19, 20, 216 ; for 

prevention, 215 

Physical education, summary of, 20 
Physics, 170 

Physiognomy of mind, 82 
Picture books, 133 
Picture rolls, 231 
Pictures for teaching, 230 
Pitman s shorthand, 232 
Play and work convertible, 55 
Playthings, 112, 113; for teaching, 230 
Plutarch quoted, 45 note 
Poetry goes with gaming, 152, 233 ; 

learning by heart, 234 ; reading for 

diversion, Ap. B, 192 
Poland, 5 

Practice, secret of teaching, 39 
Praise and blame, 34, 37 
Primer, 134 
Psychrolusia, 208 
Public opinion in schools, 223 
Public schools, boys left alone, 228 ; iso 
lated, 221; manners in, 220; morals in, 


Puffendorf, 161 
Punishments, severe, must be avoided, 

2 9> 3. 36 

Queis humanci, &c., Hor., 225 
Questions, children s, 105 

Rabelais, on realism, Ivii 

Rascality, 114 

Reading, 129 ff.; collects rough material, 
Ap. B, 202 ; pleasant books for, 230 

Real knowledge, 233 

Realism, 232 

Reason v. custom, 188 

Reason, the candle of the Lord, 225 ; 
touchstone for truth, 227 

Reasoning, children s, 106; and disputa 
tions, 162 ; with children, 60, 222 

Recreation necessary, 87 

Religion and paupers, Ap. A, 190 

Reputation, 34, 36, 104; effect of, 218 

Requisites, Locke s four, 115 

Rewards and punishments necessary, 33, 
217; injudicious, 32 

Reynard the Fox, 133 

Rhetoric, 162, 163 

Riding the great horse, 175, 236 

Rod, 30 ; when to be used, 222 

Rome, 3 

Rudeness in high life, 127 

Rules, avoid many, 38, 39 

St Winifred s Well, 6, 208 
Sanctius, F., 141, 232 
Sauntering, 107 
Scheibler, 76 



Schoolboys, Locke s bad character of, 

46, 48, 49 

Schoolmaster, small power of, 48 
Schools, good side of, 46 ; mischief from, 

46 ; see Public, &c. 
Schuppius, 235 
Scoppius, 232 
Scotch-hoppers, in 
Scotland, 6 

Scriptures, study of, Ap. B, 194 
Sea, English defeated at, 221 
Seasons of aptitude, 53 
Seeley, Prof. J. R., on childish gram 
mar, 232 
Self-denial by early practice, 25 ; taught 

early, 21; true principle of virtue, 29 
Self-teaching, 75 
Seneca, 5, 10, 76 
" Sense, give me a little," 10, 150 
Servants, dangers from, 45 ; difficulties 

from, 35 ; treatment of, 102, 103 
Severity, harm from, 31 
Short, Dr R., 213, note 
Shorthand, 137, 231 
Shufflings of outward condition, 103 
Sincerity with young, 228 
Sleep, 15, 214 ; students need of, Ap. B, 


Social distinctions, 103 
Solon, 21 
"Some thoughts concerning reading," 

Ap. B, 191 
Sparta, 99 

Speaking, art of, Ap. B, 192 
Speaking ex tempore, 151, 233 
Spectres, 167 

Spirits, 168 ; no teaching about, 116 
Spirits, i.e. nerve-force, 215 
Sternhold and Hopkins, 129 
Strachan, Dr, Wliat is Play ? 227 
Strauchius, 159 
Studies, map of, Ap. B, 202 
Study, rules for, Ap. B, 192 ff. 
Suetonius quoted, 47, note 
Sugar for children, 211 
Surfeit-water, 215 
Sweet meats, 14 

Sydenham, Locke s intercourse w t 
xxvii " tn , 

Talebearing, 89 

Tasks of play, no 

Thackeray quoted, 220 

Themes, no Latin, 150, 151 

Things, teaching about, 140 

Tight lacing, 210 

Time, economy of, Ap. B, 192 

Tole, to entice, 98, 1. 23 

Trade to be learnt, 177, 236 

Travel, right time of, 184 

Trivium, 162, 230, 235 

Truth accepted when displeasing, Ap. B, 

Tutor, character of, 66, 156; choice of, 
68; his true function, 75: importance 
of, 67 ; must be man of world, 77 ; 
must be respected, 66 ; must give know 
ledge of world, 74 

Tutor s chief business to form mind, 155 

Vane, Sir W., xxiii 

Vanity, 23 

Vennor, Dr R. , 213, note 

Verses, against Latin, 152 

Vice, spreading, 49 

Virtue, first, 115, 116; the hard and 

valuable part in education, 50 
Voiture, 164, 235 
Volery, 73, 225 

Waller, a phrase from, 205 

Wants of fancy, 84 ; of nature, 84 

Willis, Dr, 209 

Wine, 214 

Wisdom v. cunning, 119 

Words and things, 149, 232 3 

Words, signs of things, Ap. B, 193 ; not 

needed for thought, Ap. B, 200 
Work less liked than play, 221 
Working in principles, 5, 48 
Working schools, Ap. A, 189 
Wormell, Dr, on shorthand, 232 
Worthington s Catechism, 135 
Wrestling, 176 
Writing, 136, 231 



\ t 

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